Highway to Hell
by chrissymi
Summary: Iron Clad; that’s what the crossroad Demon had said about the deal. With the clock ticking, Dean’s time is almost up. He’s accepted his fate; Sam’s still fighting to save him. Can Ruby’s last minute plan work? Even so, Dean's gone...
1. Chapter 1

**HIGHWAY TO HELL**

**CHAPTER 1**

Sourwood, LOUISIANA

"Listen Dean, you got any idea how long it's taken me to actually get this guy to see us?" Sam complained emphatically, soft hazel eyes blazing in usual Sammy fashion.

"Yeah, Sam…" Dean moaned. He gulped nervously, rubbing briefly at his forehead before glancing back at Sam. He could already see Sam's temper revving up in anticipation of another, full-fledged battle of the Winchester wills. "Months… you told me already, like over a dozen times!"

"And you suddenly have something _more important_ to do?" Sam snipped, as his emotions began to twist and turn somewhere deep in his guts.

"Sam please." Dean pleaded softly. "I've done _everything_ you've asked of me lately. Please, just let me do this one thing, _for me_." It wasn't that he was looking for an argument with his brother, it was just that time was running out and there were certain things he wanted to do.

Dean had eventually, although begrudgingly, caved in to Sam's determination to save him from his deal with the Crossroad Demon, some months back. He'd let his brother drag him from one end of the country to the other, coast to coast, A to Z, on one hair-brained scheme to the next. But no amount of research, or palm reading, or hours upon hours of brain wracking and library bashing had given them any answers. There wasn't a stone, or tome, or witch doktor unturned!

The Crossroad Demon's contract was binding, iron clad; end of story. He was going to die, or Sam was. And Dean wasn't about to let Sam die again!

Only Sam wasn't so willing to give in.

Dean had simply run out of fight. After a lifetime of fighting every possible, conceivable creature and evil, known (and unknown) to mankind, he just didn't have anything left to battle his own brother, and his obstinate, unwavering determination. It was just easier to let Sam have his way. So for the last few weeks, Sam's way had been a desperate battle to find some manner to save Dean's life.

Only now Dean had also run out of hope. With the number of disappointments mounting and not a hint of reprieve from his contract, he'd sucked his hope dry. With the clock literally ticking down the days he had finally accepted facts, even though Sam couldn't; he was a dead man walking…

"Damn it Dean, what the hell could be more important than this?" Sam demanded, on the verge of snapping some sense into him.

Dean sat on the corner of his motel bed, in some dive joint in Sourwood, Louisiana, as he methodically cleaned his pistol, despite the fact that it was spotlessly clean already.

"I wanna see Dad." Dean revealed from beneath down cast eyes as his hands continued to polish.

"Dad?" Sam muttered, pausing as he stalked up and down the breadth of their room. He still hadn't quite got a grip on the fact that Dean's time was essentially up, and Dean was simply trying to tie up loose ends. Sam still vehemently believed there was some way out of the crossroad demon's deal.

"Yeah, Dad." Dean sighed, pausing to glance up at his bewildered brother. "I want to go to Dad's grave, ok?"

Dean was tired; tired of getting beat around from pillar to post, tired of the infinite motels and God only knew how many millions of miles of open road. And man he was tired of the endless ghost to ghoul exterminations and a never-ending supply of demons intent on world domination! It was a brutal, lonely and thankless existence, and he was tired of it all. Most of all, he was tired of hoping that it _wouldn't_ end.

"Oh." Sam was dumbfounded. He just couldn't fathom why Dean was so accepting of his ultimate death. If anyone should go out fighting, it was Dean. And yet here he was, prepared to check out with the same detached defeat that had taken their father. "Can't it wait 'til tomorrow?" He stuttered, knowing he was walking a narrow, emotionally-charged, line.

"No." Dean was honestly blunt; he didn't exactly have a spare 24 hours up his sleeve. And he couldn't quite face another disappointment. He simply didn't have enough hope left at the bottom of his soul to scrape together the optimism to face another illusionary grasp for salvation.

"But surely you could…" Sam was cut short as Dean's patience, already worn to the bone, gave out.

"Sam, you gotta accept facts." Dean blasted as he tossed his gun into his weapon's duffle with his other, meticulously cleaned, arsenal. "This isn't gonna end anyway but me dead!" He stated brusquely. "Let's face it, if you want a sure fire bet, it's a ring in! And you can collect in a couple of days!"

"Dean, you're not gonna die." Sam replied with equal resolve. "Papa Moon can help."_ Surely there should be some thanks for his relentless pursuit for a deal breaker!_

"Papa Moon?" Dean sighed rolling his eyes. "Mama Sun, Sister Star… Papa Jim, Doktor Earl, Doktor A to bloody Z! Damn it Sammy! How many witch doktors and psychics you need, to tell you the same thing?"

"Dean you can't just give up!" Sam snapped back irately. "I can't… I can't just let you go."

"Look…" Dean almost beseeched, gulping down his usual irritation at Sam's tenacity. "I can't give up on something I never had. I'm just accepting facts, Sam. Please… I don't want to argue… I want to see Dad and I want you to come with me." He conceded.

Usually when Dean and Sam had a difference of opinion the brothers effectively became a rock and a hard spot. Compromise wasn't exactly in their vocabulary. Except in recent weeks when Dean had come to the conclusion that sometimes life was literally too short for arguing about issues that essentially didn't matter. He wanted to see his Dad's grave and he wanted Sam to be there. Simple! And he wasn't about to let either his or Sam's obstinate pride get in the way of that.

Dean gazed at Sam with a look he wasn't sure he had ever seen before; _'Please?_' Dean's soft green eyes pleaded, short and simple. It was almost as if Dean had mirrored Sam's trademark 'little brother' puppy dog gaze.

Sam stared back blankly at Dean. His mouth twitched as it always did when he wanted to say something, only he couldn't quite find the words…

"Yeah, ok Dean…" Sam muttered back eventually. The Hoodoo witch doktor could probably wait a day…

Dean's smile of relief almost brought a tear to Sam's eye. And he realized, he couldn't remember the last time Dean had looked so relaxed and at ease… or smiled. He had to make his way to the bathroom before reality came crashing in on him and a floodgate was opened on his pent up emotions.

Dean started to pack what remained of his stuff, still strewn around the dark, dingy, mould ridden room that hadn't passed a hygiene or cleanliness check for decades. As he silently reflected on his life, or lack of it, places like this one, and the innumerable other hotels and motels like it, almost made Hell look attractive. The room had a stench to it that could curl nose hairs! At first it had made the brothers want to heave. Neither of them had actually slept beneath the sheets of their beds, the off-white tinge to the bed linen was simply too off-putting, not that the musty brown bed covers seemed any better. The paper thin walls, and around the clock activities in the other rooms made Dean wonder if their bargain room rate wasn't perhaps by the hour. But money was pretty much non-existent. He'd even considered selling a few quarts of blood, just so they could afford to eat a decent meal. Sam's unrelenting search for a miracle had maxed out their credit cards, way ahead of Dean's expectations. For all his scamming the next lot of cards weren't due to arrive in one of their numerous mail boxes for another week, in South Dakota no less! But then Dean had figured Sam would probably want to be with what token family he'd have left by then – Bobby Singer. And, as much as Sam would probably want to whine and moan about it, there wasn't a card among them for Dean. Not that Sam knew; it was one less issue he'd have to tackle with him.

Dean had already forced himself to accept facts; he was going to die, and his time could be counted in days. Torn to shreds by huge invisible Hell Hounds, hounds he was sure he'd already heard, late at night, and possibly even glimpsed out of the corner of his eye. Hounds that he knew he would eventually see, when his time was up, even when others still couldn't. He'd see them as they ripped his soul from his body, to drag him into the very depths of Hell itself. He wondered if it would be quick, hoped it would be. He just couldn't face the hounds ripping him apart like some Tarentino movie extra…

Two days later…

Dodge City. KANSAS.

Having said his goodbyes to his father's grave, as close as they were to Lawrence, he couldn't quite bring himself to visit his mother's. Never could and apparently never would either. Not like there were any remains buried there anyway. Wherever his mother was, it wasn't under the headstone that bore her name.

And now they were in Dodge City. Having failed to reschedule an appointment with Papa Moon, Sam's relentless pursuit had been hidden under the guise of meeting up with Bobby. And Dean had been choked with emotion when they met with the weathered hunter at a local coffee shop.

Their reunion began with a few coffees, some doughnuts and casual chit-chat, with both Sam and Bobby tactfully avoiding the pressing issue at hand. Sam hadn't quite hedged the subject of one of Bobby's associates, with a specialty for 'pacts with the devil' kind of issues.

However, tact wasn't one of Dean's specialties…

"So, as a dead man walking, I say I go out in style!" Dean smiled as he said it, already anticipating the dropped jaws and silent awe that he would provoke. "I want… whiskey - _good whiskey_ - women and par-tey!" Dean's eyebrows wiggled with anticipated delight.

With both Sam and Bobby still dumbfounded, Dean called to the kid working behind the counter. "Hey, Joey!" Dean's smile reached from ear to ear. Had a stranger been told, at that moment, that Dean was on a countdown to death; no amount of convincing could ever substantiate the claim. Joey shuffled to their table expecting them to order another round of their specialty bean blends. "So tell me, you know of any classy establishments to spend the night? And… more importantly, somewhere a guy could get a decent drink and a bit of action? If you know what I mean?" Dean's hands traced an hour glass figure in the air as his eyebrow worked overtime with insinuation.

"Yeah, dude." The barely out of teens replied. "King Solomon's is pretty happenin'. Motel has its own night club. Unless you're wantin' you know…" Joey knelt down by Dean's side and whispered. "like an escort or somethin'?"

"No dude… King Solomon's sounds just great." Dean smiled as he pulled his last twenty from his wallet and slipped it into the kid's hand.

Dean smiled at his companions, once Joey had returned to his post, with an extra wide smirk.

"Dean?" Sam queried. All along it had been Sam trying to break the deal, whilst Dean did his best to ignore it. Sam couldn't quite get why, but then he hadn't accepted that it was a done deal yet. Dean had, and it was just easier to avoid thinking about it, than spend what little time he had left worrying about it.

"Man's gotta have a dyin' wish, right?" Dean grinned.

"Whiskey and women?" Bobby frowned disapprovingly, although, he would have been surprised by anything but.

Dean shrugged his shoulders as he shoved the last doughnut into his mouth in one piece. He was easily pleased…

"Ok then, let's go." Bobby mused as he finished his coffee. "You're giving me indigestion!"

"Yeah, funny." Dean smirked once he swallowed the doughnut. "Hey, Bobby…" he whispered mischievously from down turned eyes, as he toyed with his coffee spoon. "I hope you can pay for all this, Old Man… We're broke!"

"Damn it Dean…" Bobby snapped angrily as he pulled out his wallet. "I ain't old!"

Dean suppressed his roguish grin.

"Bobby?" Sam interceded impatiently, nudging Bobby's knee, hoping the 'seasoned' hunter would broach the issue of meeting with his associate.

Bobby gave Sam a side wards glance as he nodded with acknowledgement.

"So this 'King Solomon' Dean…" Bobby began. "You expectin' me to pay for that as well?"

"Well, you could kinda consider it fulfillin' a dyin' man's last wish." Dean smiled again as he leant back on his chair confidently. He knew, with his dire predicament, Bobby Singer couldn't deny him a thing.

"Ok." Bobby stared at Dean with an expressionless face worthy of the experienced poker player that he was. "But you'll owe me."

Dean couldn't help but chortle at the statement. "Yeah right…" His smile waned as his demeanor became a little more serious when Bobby's stern expression remained plastered to his face. "Sammy's good for it."

"No… not Sam; _you_ can pay up front." Bobby replied, pausing to gauge Dean's obvious confusion. "There's someone I want you to meet with."

"Shit Bobby!" Dean sighed, as irritation welled. He glanced at Sam with blatant accusation. "Not you too! I've had enough! No… freakin'… more!"

"Don't you go cussin' at me Boy!" Bobby snapped back, intent on diverting Dean's growing anger before it had time to take hold. "You owe us a little too!"

The senior hunter had a certain manner about him that demand respect. And Dean always felt compelled to give it. He closed his gaping mouth and smoothed his brow.

"Sorry…" Dean grumbled. "Bobby, there is just no way outta this. Can't I just enjoy what time I got left?"

"Yeah, you can." Bobby conceded. "With as many bells and whistles as you want! But we're the ones gotta try and keep on livin' after you're gone. You gotta let us have a little soul soothin' too!" Bobby was never one to tap-dance around an issue. "We gotta know we at least tried every possibility…"

Dean glanced from one hunter to the other. Had he really been so selfish? Hadn't they already tried? Their combined pleading glare was quite a unified front.

"Fine! But tonight it's King Solomon's!" Dean sighed.

Blackie Jackson's House, Del Mann

An hour's drive out of Dodge City,

KANSAS

Dean went… and they talked.

Dean's interest wavered, despondently, from Blackie Jackson's enormous algae streaked fish tank to his multitude of miss-matched stray dogs wrestling in the middle of his kitchen floor. Agreeing to go didn't bind him to partake, or so he'd figured of his latest pact! Besides, Sam and Bobby knew his situation inside-out; he suspected they even knew it better than he did. So it was easier to let his thoughts wander to the trivial amusement of a Maltese cross effectively subduing a Doberman into submission, than actually allow his meager hopes to shrivel up and die altogether with another disappointment.

He wasn't remotely surprised when their last hope venture went belly up just like all their other attempts to relieve him of his deal with the Crossroad Demon.

"Problem, az I sees it, iz ya don'st knows who ya made tha contact with." Blackie shook his dread-locks sympathetically. "Ain't much to it, I knows, but there's ya problem, ain't nuff in it ta find a loop-hole. Unless'n ya can find sum'in tha demon wants mor'en ya soul… or Sammezz. Sum'in else ya can bargain with! But honestly, I can't even be seein' ya cans negotiate anovva pact. Itz a done deal!"

"Maybe that's it?" Sam prattled excitedly as they drove away from Blackie's near-dilapidated shack that he liked to pass off as a house. "Maybe we can find something the demon could want more than Dean's soul?"

Dean simply glared at Sam with disheartened bewilderment. "What, like a diamond necklace and a box of chocolates maybe?"

"What about the Colt?" Sam pleaded with Bobby, ignoring Dean's last predictable, cynical response. "Dad used it to save Dean."

"Sam…" Bobby sighed. As plausible and feasible as it sounded, he wasn't overly enthusiastic. "John still gave up his soul… Seriously Sam, I'm guessin' that if there was something this demon wanted, more than Dean's soul… something anyone of us could have given him, he'd have demanded it by now."

"Maybe…" Sam stammered. "… we just gotta try and contact him?"

"Who exactly, Sam? You figured out yet who owns the contract?" Dean demanded flatly. "Cause let's face it, when you had your little chat with the Crossroad Bitch, did she suggest anything? I'm figuring she probably would have, what with you wavin' the Colt in her face and all!"

The Crossroad Demon's words echoed through Sam's mind… her final words, just before he shot one of the Colt's bullets into her head._ 'He wants Dean's soul… bad. And believe me he's not gonna let it go!... I'm sorry Sam, there's no way outta this one, not this time.' _

That was the turning point for Sam, when he suddenly realized Dean was going, for good. And he finally yielded; the least he could do was bend to his brother's every desire…

Dodge City, KANSAS

King Solomon Motel

_No pun intended: But Dean had to get the hell out of Dodge! _

As his time drew closer Dean had demanded he'd go out with a bang. Thanks to Bobby's open wallet they'd booked into the reasonably classy motel, or at least as classy as a motel could ever get, ironically named the 'King Solomon'. All three secretly mused that if they could just find the dead king's seal, supposedly a mystical ring that could control demons, then maybe Dean would have some chance!

The rooms were large and spacious. They had checked into a family room complete with a huge 'King-Solomon' size bed and two singles; although they all shared the same room. Dean was unarguably allocated the king size bed without dispute from either hunter. Dying, at least, had some perks! There was even an indoor swimming pool, a sauna and a gymnasium on offer.

But the real treat was the small bar that dimmed the lights and upped the music after 9pm when it transformed into a reasonably popular night club. And that's exactly where Dean had requested to be. Celebrate his life rather than mourn him. And Bobby and Sam had put on brave faces and come to the party, just for Dean. And, after a night of drinking, strictly top shelf stuff, both Sam and Bobby were pretty out of it, enough not to have noticed that Dean hadn't actually consumed anywhere near as much alcohol as they'd thought. Instead he'd tipped the whiskey into the fake pot plant by their table. He'd danced with every pretty girl that succumbed to his boyishly seductive smile. He even managed to hustle both Sam and Bobby onto the multicolored, lit-up dance floor; and to see Bobby try and shake his booty was worth every effort.

The bar closed at 3am, and the trio staggered back to their room, with two more bottles of whiskey in hand. It didn't take long before the contents of the first bottle had been consumed, each eager to drown their own personal grief at Dean's ultimate, and seemingly unavoidable death. Eventually their tolerance to the alcohol succumbed and almost-comatose intoxication followed. So it was an easy task for Dean to pour almost every second glass behind his bed headboard, just to be sure he'd be sober enough to make his planned escape. By the time they had begun on the second bottle their bodily defenses had kicked in and both Dean's companions pretty much passed out. Dean put them to bed, in a last act of fathering as far as Sam was concerned. And as for Bobby, the old coot deserved better than to be left sleeping hunched over on the floor at the foot of his bed.

It certainly made sneaking away a lot easier. Dean only had to wait until he could hear Bobby's rhythmic snoring, and watched for Sam's dream twitching to know it was safe to leave.

As it drew close to 5am he had to steal himself away from Sam and Bobby. They were pretty much all the family he had left, certainly the only people left on the face of the earth he could honestly say he actually cared about. And that was why he had to go. All their frantic, desperate and futile attempts at trying to save him had worn his composure away to the bone. Any longer and he would fall apart and he couldn't bring himself to have them witness that. But more importantly he couldn't bear to have them witness his ultimate death at the gory jaws of the Crossroad Demon's Hell Hounds. And he couldn't risk the Hounds going for a two for one deal in the Winchester stakes. He couldn't put Sam or Bobby at risk.

And besides, he was never, ever, one for chick-flick soppy, drawn out, good-byes.

He rearranged his belongings on top of his bed, most of which he'd already sorted, folded and packed neatly away. He certainly wasn't going to need them any more. He'd spent therapeutic time, over the last week, cleaning every weapon. It had long since been his reprieve and escape from reality, when his mind went into auto pilot and blanked out all his fears, worries and demons; and he had a lifetime's worth of those! There was really noting left to do…

He flipped Sam's laptop open and left him a quick note. He removed his amulet and ring, his only real personal possessions, valuable enough to him that he wasn't about to let the Hell Hounds ravage them. He placed them carefully on the bedside table by Sam's side, along with his cell phone. He wouldn't need that any more either and he didn't want them trying to contact him. He was going to die, he'd faced that now, and any discussions to the contrary would be far too disturbing. He'd rather not hope; it would make things far harder when his time came. Last of all he slipped a carefully written set of instructions underneath his phone, on how Sam should look after the Impala. The car was his only other valued possession.

Then finally he checked his .45 colt, his favorite pistol, and grabbed extra ammunition for it. He slid the silver and ivory, custom engraved hand gun into his jeans waistband, at the small of his back where it nudged against his spine in a reassuringly, comforting way. Because, this one last prized possession he would need. And, as he grabbed what remained of their second bottle of whiskey, he snuck out of the room…

He doubted either Sam or Bobby would have woken if an atomic bomb had of gone off, however he wasn't about to risk starting the Impala, with her distinct and rather noisy, gravelly rumble, just in case. Instead he rolled her away, until he was well and truly out of the Motel car park. He consciously refrained from looking back, once he sat in the familiar, comfortable driver's seat. He simply turned the ignition over, allowed her to purr to life and gave her enough gas she roared away. He knew that if he looked back, if he procrastinated too long on what, or more precisely, who, he was leaving behind, and on what awaited him, he'd fall apart. Even as he drove away he had to tighten his grip on the steering wheel because his hands trembled uncontrollably. A foreboding ache grew somewhere in the pit of his stomach and he found himself almost hyperventilating with trepidation…

Sam thought he'd woken early, his head certainly felt as if he could use another 6 or 12 hours sleep. As he blinked his eyes open, against due objection at the far too bright sunlight that streamed through the not-quite-closed door, he realized it was a lot later than he'd thought. It was the noise of the chamber maid's cleaning trolley that had awoken him, that and her courtesy knock at the door and request to see if she could clean their room. And there she stood, door wide open, trolley halfway into the room, rather embarrassed at finding the room occupied. She hadn't after all received a reply, and the room had only been paid for until that morning. She apologized profusely as she backed out of their room, and headed off to the next.

Sam, still dazed and intoxicated, took a few minutes to register anything at all. Bobby stirred, turned over and began to snore once again. Sam rolled his tongue around, wishing he could spit the vile tasting piece of his anatomy out. He half suspected something had crawled into his mouth as he slept and died there… and there was a stench in the room of stale whiskey that would outlast any room deodorizer.

His gaze lazily examined the room and he was somewhat bewildered by the neatly made bed beside him, stacked with Dean's duffle and weapons bag. But no Dean. Sam sat up cautiously, at dire risk of emptying his stomach contents into his lap. He glanced around the room, as he ran his hand through his shaggy hair, expecting to find his brother sitting somewhere in a corner, or at the table, just waiting for him to wake up so that he could shoot off some cynical remark about him sleeping in. But still no Dean. Maybe he'd gone to get breakfast Sam speculated, although the price of their room included a full continental breakfast at the motel's restaurant. Sam turned to his bedside table, to check the digital clock that was built into it. However his attention never quite made it to the clock screen to realize it was 10.43 am. Instead his gaze fell on Dean's cell phone, and more importantly, his amulet and ring that lay beside it.

"What the?" Sam rasped out in a hoarse, post all-night-drinking voice. "Dean?" Sam forced his legs over the side of the bed and clambered to his feet. His first point of inspection was the bathroom, firstly because it was the only other room to check, and secondly because the entire contents of his stomach was definitely coming back up! However, after dousing his face with icy cold water and breathing huge lungfuls of air back, he managed to avoid the predictable reprisal for his alcoholic indulgence.

"Dean?" he called out, loud enough to startle Bobby from his drunken slumber.

"Sam? What's up?" Bobby grunted as he rubbed at his pounding temples.

"Dean's gone." Sam whispered as he stared blankly at Dean's amulet and ring. He knew exactly what they meant. Dean was gone, and he wasn't coming back. Sam moved to the window and squinted out into the car park. He saw nothing but an empty parking space. Bobby's pickup sat there all alone. "Car's gone too." Sam added as his attention bounced from one corner of the room to another: Dean's belongings neatly stacked on his bed… his phone… his amulet and ring… and a note!

Sam pounced on the note, hopeful that Dean had left them an explanation as to where he had gone. However, when Sam unfolded the paper, he found nothing but specific and detailed instructions on the care and maintenance of the Impala. Bobby staggered to Sam's side, and forced the drunken haze from his brain so that he could read Dean's note.

"What the hell?" Bobby grunted in dismay. "Sam you don't need to change the oil that often…" He remarked as he scanned the note.

"He's gone Bobby." Sam sighed as he slumped onto the bed. He collected Dean's amulet and ring into his grasp, squeezing the items in a desperate attempt to have Dean reappear through sheer will and desire.

Bobby, still drunkenly dazed and sleep deprived suddenly began to register just what Sam was saying. Dean really was gone. And then the full implications of the day's significance crashed in on him. Today was Dean's last day, or yesterday had been. He wasn't actually sure… Maybe it was tomorrow. But none-the-less Dean was going to die. They couldn't find a loop hole or an escape clause in Dean's deal with the Crossroad Demon. Nothing that wouldn't result in Sam dying instead, that was. And he'd tried every last contact and resource he could lay his hands on. Not even Blackie Jackson could help, and he was as close to a demonic solicitor as a hunter could get!

Bobby scolded himself for not foreseeing that Dean would do this; would take off. In so many ways Dean functioned on purely primitive survival instincts; instincts that decreed that, upon certain death, he crawl away to die, on his own, and away from his pack. And he should have known that the last thing Dean Winchester would ever want was for Sam to witness his death. Dean had watched Sam die in his arms. Which was the whole reason behind his current predicament, because, Dean simply couldn't let Sam go. In desperation he sold his soul to a Crossroad Demon in return for Sam's life. And even though he knew he would die, Dean couldn't face Sam having to go through the same thing; to witness when the life was extinguished in his eyes. Not after having already felt the trauma of Sam dying in his arms. He just couldn't allow his baby brother to have to feel the same agonizing helplessness, like he had with Sam. Only in Dean's case, life wouldn't just extinguish, like a candle in the wind. His life was predestined to be ripped from him in bloody, vicious grasps at the merciless, savage jaws of the Hell Hounds.

"He's really gone…" Sam gazed at Bobby, with an expression suited to a six year old, who'd been informed that his puppy had been run over by a car. "Bobby?" Sam was at the verge of despair, tears welled in his eyes, although he forced them back, gulping back a huge lump in his throat.

"I know Sam." Bobby replied, wrapping his arm affectionately around Sam's shoulder. "I know."

"There has to be something we can do Bobby…" Sam pleaded desperately.

"I wish there was. We've tried everything, Sam, read everything and spoken to anyone I thought might have the slightest iota! There's just nothing… His time's up, Sam. This is what he wanted…" Bobby consoled. "You know that. This is Dean's choice. The only thing he could ever do to appease his heart… for you. His whole life has always been about you Sam. He couldn't change that, not ever."

"Maybe, but how am I supposed to live with this now?" Sam sucked back his swelling emotions. "After Dad… How could he do this?"

"Sam, don't. Don't rehash all this again and again, let it go. You gotta let Dean go. Do what he'd want you to do from now on, be strong, keep on living." Bobby advised, although he still couldn't condone Dean's act of hypocrisy; not after the anguish Dean had put himself through when John had done the same for him. He'd lived a life of guilt, for being alive, when he knew he shouldn't be. And it would probably eat Sam up in just the same way. How could it not? Not that Bobby would ever want Sam to have died instead. He could never choose death for either of the Winchester boys; he loved them both like they were his own sons. But sometimes it was just so, and should stay so. Even then, he regretted that he couldn't find a way to break the pact. But he knew the tit-for-tat game of death and resurrection the Winchesters had been playing had to stop. "What's done is done and cannot be undone!" He quoted sternly.

They both knew Dean had been adamant that he should have died all along, should have died after he was electrocuted hunting a rawhead, had it not been for Roy Le Grange. And he should have died after Azazel tore his insides apart, and then slammed a damned semi trailer into the Impala… He always said he should have died. And now that his year was up that's exactly the way he wanted it to be.

'_That's my point. Dad brought me back, Bobby. I'm not even supposed to be here. At least this way, something good could come out of it, you know? It's like my life could mean something.'_ Dean has revealed to Bobby almost a year ago…

"It should never have 'been done' in the first place!" Sam sulked.

"You just gotta let it go, Sam…" Bobby sighed.

"I can't Bobby." Sam muttered. "He thought he couldn't go on without _me_. Only it's me that can't go on without him… I just can't. I can't do this and stay me. Not like he could. The Trickster proved that to me. I need him to keep me… _me_." The trickster had played the ultimate mind game with him. Killing Dean over and over again, repeating the day with every possible alternative, until, in an ultimate twist of the knife he left Dean dead, for months. And during that time Sam had as good as plunged into the depths of Hell himself. He became a killing machine, stripped of all humanity and compassion. He was stripped of being Sam Winchester. And the scars remained, even if the Trickster eventually set the slate straight. And although Dean often chided Sam about being his Jiminy Cricket, Dean had never, ever become as dark and empty as Sam had. And it scared him, scared him that maybe Azazel had been right about him, that ultimately his fate was to go dark side, to lead the forces of Darkness in a bid for World dominance… Because, in reality, Dean was his Jiminy.

"Yes… Yes you can, Sam. But you have to give up your anger and resentment at what this life has cost you." Bobby explained. "It'll eat you alive; trust me I know from experience…" Bobby became obviously remorseful as he reminisced about his wife, about having to kill her because, so long ago, he knew no better. "In a way it's what the Trickster was trying to teach you. What we have to do now is focus on what Dean wanted us to do – go on living. _You_ have to keep on living, and you have to let Dean die."

Sam glared at Bobby. "And you can do that?" He demanded.

"I hope so…" Bobby admitted tentatively, "…eventually."

Sam sat by Dean's bags. His weapon's bag lay open, revealing a shinning display of armaments. He'd cleaned and polished every last item, the smell of gun oil still strong. Sam caressed Dean's clothes, with an already dire longing to have Dean back. He could feel Dean's journal, lying along the side of his duffle. Sam eased it out and began to flip through the pages. As he scanned Dean's scrawl he began to hope there may be a message in amongst the words…

Sam's heart leapt up into his throat, momentarily, when he heard a low gravelly rumble entering the motel car park. At first Sam thought that maybe Dean had returned, however he quickly realized the sound was more akin to a motorbike than the Impala.

Both emotionally charged hunters were startled when there was a knock at the door. Sam reluctantly got to his feet to open it, half expecting to see the chamber maid again.

"What the hell do _you _want, Bitch?" Sam snarled at Ruby, as she hung her helmet on the handle bar of the Harley Davidson behind her.

"I'm here to help Dean." She quipped back with her usual haughtiness.

"Oh, yeah that's right, because you promised me you could do that. Didn't you? You deceiving, lying _bitch_!" Sam shouted at her, he really wasn't in any mood to play her games right now. Her choice of timing was about as bad as she could possible get. He should have know… even Dean had said it over and over… _'Demons lie!'_

"Enough with the _'bitch routine'_, alright! You tryin' to fill Dean's shoes already?" She snapped back angrily.

Sam closed the door on her; almost before she managed to push it back open, far enough to speak to him.

"I might have an idea." She snarled back at him through the narrow crack. "To save Dean…"

The door opened, and she was met by the sight of the two, slightly worse for wear, hunters, glaring at her with daggers in their eyes.

"You're a little late aren't you?" Bobby stood by Sam's side with equal loathing at the manipulating demoness. Together they barred the door; neither had any inclination to ask her into the room.

"Well. It's kinda the only way the plan will work." She replied. "Where is he?" Ruby demanded impatiently as her attention scanned the dark room behind them for Dean... but there was zip.

"He's _gone_ already!" Sam snapped at her.

"Gone? What? I thought he had a few more days…" Ruby sighed scrutinizing both hunters, looking for an unspoken answer.

Sam frowned angrily at her with bewilderment and resentment; however no response was forth coming.

"He's not, _gone_, gone, is he? Like… _dead_, gone?" She confirmed, sensing that Sam was angry, but not distraught, like she'd presumed he would be if Dean was really dead.

"No, he's just _gone_." Sam informed her, although he honestly didn't know for sure.

"And is he coming back?" She queried cautiously.

"No... I don't think so" Sam replied as he fingered Dean's amulet and ring firmly clasped in his hand. Although, truth be told; he was losing hope. If Dean had left without his only prized, personal possessions, he was gone, full stop.

"And you don't know where he's gone?" She continued.

"No." Sam snapped back angrily. Both he and Bobby shook their heads in unison, with implicit misery.

"Surely you must have some idea?" She queried.

"NO!" Sam repeated, as he turned his back to her and began to walk away.

"Listen missy, now's really not a good time. Why don't you just make yourself scarce, ok?" Bobby urged her as he backed away. "Be thankful Sam hasn't sent you back to where you belong already!"

"No! Sam, please!" She pleaded as Sam hunched back into the room. "I _can_ help."

Sam turned around slowly, crossing his arm grimly and tilted his head, waiting with irritation for her to continue.

"I really think I can save him. But we need to find him." She explained as she tentatively entered their room. "Maybe he's gone somewhere… somewhere special?"

Sam furrowed his brows at her and gave an obvious sarcastic chuckle. "Yeah, that quaint, family fun spot from our happy little childhood, you mean?"

"Maybe. Could he have gone home?" Ruby speculated as she surveyed the luxurious but malodorous room. "And what the hell _died_ in here?" She exclaimed, cringing her nose up in disgust at the 'day-after' stench.

"Huh! A… bottle of J B. But, no, _Home_, like in Lawrence? It isn't exactly a happy memory. The Impala and every back road and byway is his only home…" Sam snapped at her, hiding his intoxicated embarrassment behind the snarl. Even so, he was still not convinced by her latest tactics to get him on side, "…why don't you go look for him there?" He sniped at her scathingly. However, the feint glimmer of hope that she really could save Dean kept him firmly in place, waiting to hear her theory. It wouldn't be the first time she'd saved him; saved them both.

"What about your father's grave?" She queried, becoming frustrated at Sam's pigheadedness.

"He's been already, said his good byes." Sam snarled. "There's no way he'd want Dad to have a front row seat when he goes. Not when the Hell Hounds come. What's your plan?"

"In a minute… What about your mother's grave?" She persisted.

"Mom's grave?" Sam chortled angrily. "No! Let's just say it's an empty hole, he wouldn't go there."

"Look, Sam, I'm trying to help here." Ruby snapped at him angrily as she paced back and forth anxiously. "Don't you want to help Dean?"

"I'd do _anything_ for Dean, and you know it!" Sam spat at her with loathing. "If you've come here to screw with me, I'll freaking kill you with my bare hands, just so I can feel the life throttled out of you!"

"I've never screwed with you Sam… Ever!" Ruby vowed. "Ok, I'm sorry I may have misled you about helping Dean, but, I honestly thought there may have been a way… I _still_ think there may be a way…"

"To save him?" Bobby queried doubtfully. They'd come up empty on every theory. As far as Bobby was concerned saving Dean was a dead end road; a very _dead_ end road.

"Yeah, well from the Crossroad Demon at least, not from himself and his own semi-suicidal reckless ways…" She tried to jest, however her jibe fell, like a lead balloon, into the silent abyss of loathing that currently spanned between them. "Please… I really think I can help him. Do you want my help or not?" She beseeched.

"Great!… only he's _gone_… gone off to die." Sam sighed angrily; definitely bad timing. "You're too late!"

"Sam surely…" She began.

"Look, he's packed everything up like he's planned to leave it all behind... for good!" Sam stifled his swelling anguish as he looked away from her. "He snuck out last night some time; in the Impala and… took off. He's cleaned and polished every last weapon in his duffle, he's packed his clothes and toiletries away – neatly no less! He's left his phone, and he's even left his journal behind. And damned if he hasn't left me the longest damned set of instructions on how to look after the Impala! He's taken care of _everything_, even left me these." Sam opened his hand to reveal Dean's amulet, and ring.

"Shit, so how much time have we got to find him? When exactly is his time up?" Ruby asked.

"Good question; we're not exactly sure." Bobby admitted. Although skeptical, he was interested in hearing her plan.

"So you _don't_ know if he's… already?" She asked hesitantly.

"No." Sam muttered, almost so quietly she knew his answer more so by his down cast face than his words.

"Dean never said exactly when he made the deal." Bobby explained. "When I left him back in Cold Oak… Sam was, well…" Bobby put his hand tenderly on Sam's shoulder. "Sam you were stone, cold... Three days later you turn up on my door step, alive and in the flesh."

"Great, so there's a three day possibility?" Ruby queried anxiously.

"Yeah, maybe…" Bobby mused. "Today, tomorrow… maybe he's already…"

"What?... You mean?… So we could already be too late?" Ruby speculated.

Bobby shrugged his shoulders with uncertainty.

"And you have no idea where he's gone?" Ruby sighed as she ran the grave consequences through her mind. "Why… why would he want to do this alone?"

"Would you want your only family to witness what the Hell Hounds will do?" Bobby quipped at her. "Or risk the demonic pit bulls going after them too?"

Ruby gazed at Bobby. It had been a very long time since she had even contemplated her family; her birth family that is. Her father was a dirty, incestuous predator, and that's if he really was her biological father and her mother a down-trodden, over worked wench. Her three siblings had barely any regard for themselves, let alone another family member. She'd have enjoyed spectating their demise at the jaws of a Hell Hound! Her family was her driving force behind pursuing Witchcraft, and the luxurious benefits she could reap from her promise to Tammi. But she could see what Bobby was referring to. Dean wouldn't ever want his family… Sam, that is… at risk; not physically or emotionally.

"You must have some idea!" Ruby stated with waning enthusiasm.

"No! If he'd have wanted us to know where he was going, he'd have invited us." Sam snapped at her. "He could be anywhere."

"No, no he's not." Ruby stated emphatically. "He would have left you a clue."

"Why?" Sam snapped at her. "When he obviously _doesn't_ want us to find him!"

"You telling me, he's gonna take off, to _die,_ and not make sure the Impala's taken care of?" Ruby queried haughtily. "Cause he took the car right?"

Sam's glance snapped to Bobby, and they glared at each other with renewed hope. In their still semi-drunk, hung-over states neither had the wits to realize that for themselves. She was right. Dean would never take the Impala without making sure she'd be found, once the deed was done. He'd gone so far as to leave specific instructions on servicing his pride and joy; he would never just abandon her!

Sam and Bobby lunged towards Dean's pile of neatly stacked belongings whilst Ruby stood back and stared with amusement as the two grown men ripped through Dean's things like kids in an Easter egg hunt. However their frantic search was a haphazard desecration to Dean's careful and meticulous final task, rather than an examination of possible clues...

"STOP!" She snapped at them eventually. "We don't have time for this! Think, please. Think!" She scolded them. "If you knew Dean was dead already, what would you do? What is there, in his stuff that you would go to first?"

Sam gazed at her blankly. "I don't know, I've checked his journal, there's nothing. Not unless it's in code… and trust me that's just not Dean's thing!"

"Well what _is _Dean's thing?' Ruby urged.

Bobby grabbed John's journal, in a hasty search for clues to Dean's whereabouts. He truly hoped maybe Dean would have left them some indication as to where he had gone.

"Maybe he's mailed us something?" Sam speculated. "You know, counting on the postal services prompt delivery?"

"Well if he's done that there's not much point searching. By the time we get a postcard he'll be on the other side already." Bobby sighed as he slumped onto the bed with defeat. There was noting in John's journal to suggest where Dean had absconded to.

"Yeah…" Sam slouched on the bed beside Bobby. "Sure hope he's not expecting me to use a Ouija board…"

"So he'd count on you hanging around in the one place?" She prompted. "Seems to me he'd figure you'd be out driving every damned back road and byway searching for him. I still reckon he's left you something here, something he knows you won't find until it's done. But something you _will definitely _find!"

"Like what?" Sam sighed, almost heart broken once more.

"What is most important to him?" Ruby urged impatiently. They were like useless infants at the moment. She hoped it was only their intoxication that had dulled their wits so drastically, because if this was what they were truly like, as hunters, of demons, they would be completely hopeless! And Dean wouldn't stand a chance!

Sam held out Dean's amulet, and ring on the palm of his hand. "There are these… and the Impala."

"Has he written something on them?" She wondered. "Some clue?"

Sam scoured the items for any sign. "Nothing."

"There must be something else, the list for the car?" Ruby queried.

"We checked it already, nothing that doesn't just relate to looking after the car." Bobby sighed.

"And there was nothing else?" She frowned. "Some clue; a note, a message, a matchbook, a freaking photo? Anything he knew you'd check on, or find?"

"No it's just his… stuff." Sam replied. There was silence as the trio contemplated any other possible clues.

"There must be something he'd be relying on, something he knew would be important enough to him you'd find a message there." She urged, hoping her theory would spark some kind of solution to the conundrum of Dean's disappearance.

"Shit… _Sam_!" Bobby stated with enthusiasm, loudly enough that both Sam and Ruby jumped with enthusiasm.

"What?" Sam hoped the weathered hunter had finally cracked the puzzle.

"No, _you_ Sam, you're the most important thing to Dean… you and that bloody car!" Bobby explained as his mind began to turn. "She's right, he'd have left something and he'd make sure you would find it. It wouldn't be in his stuff, it'd be in yours, Sam!"

"Well I haven't found anything." Sam rebutted angrily as he moved to his own duffle. In an odd twist of reality, it had actually been left in stark contrast to Dean's, items shoved in haphazardly and arbitrarily; just like Dean's would usually have been. He hadn't actually searched it, but nothing had presented itself, he hadn't found a sign as yet! He opened up his duffle, and rummaged through his belongings. Frustrated, he tossed item, after item onto the floor until he was ripping at clothes and toiletries alike with a frenzied desperation. Until he finally pulled out his own journal. He flipped through the pages, identifying every message and notation, most of which were his own. There were some scrawls there, made by Dean; the occasional lurid and sexually explicit notations, but most of which were months, even years old, when Dean had been Dean. But, there was nothing giving any indication of where he had gone. There were no concealed notes or clues at all.

The trio fell into another uncomfortable silence again as they contemplated what meager avenues of possibilities they had left.

"Sammy!" Bobby exclaimed as he thought of a prospect. "Check your phone and your laptop!" Bobby reached, with optimism, for Dean's phone.

Sam ripped his cell from his pocket, hoping Dean had sent him a message, or left him a voice mail. But again there was nothing. Bobby shook his head when he found nothing stored in Dean's cell either.

Then Sam flipped his laptop open, where it sat on the small dining table. A small light in the corner reminded Sam he had a scheduled meeting coming up. Sam eagerly brought up the appointments screen. Quickly a smile of desperate hope plastered across his face. "Damn him!" Sam sighed as he turned the screen around to show both Bobby and Ruby his findings.

Under the next day's date, Dean had left a solitary message: 'Lloyd's Bar'.

"Figures…" Bobby muttered as he shook his head at their clumsy search; he should have realized it would be Sam's laptop from the start. "That damned laptop is to you, what the Impala is to Dean!"

"Lloyd's Bar… It makes sense! It's where we first met her." Sam informed them. "The Crossroad's Demon."

"You think that's where he's gone? It's not just a… reminder… of when time's up?" Ruby queried.

"I don't think he'd need to set a reminder for that date." Sam snarled. It would have been etched into Dean's memory like a blazing neon sign, and even Dean knew Sam didn't need a reminder.

"Can you tell me exactly where Lloyd's Bar is?" Ruby queried anxiously as she contemplated their choices.

"Just out of Greenwood, Mississippi." Sam replied. "It's a good day's drive from here though."

"That doesn't give us much time…" Ruby muttered as she checked her wristwatch. It was almost 11.30am.

"Look, seriously Ruby, you've been stringing me along for so long, don't do this to me now. Don't let me hope when there is none!" Sam pleaded.

"Then don't hope… just do!" She stated. "You know of any secluded places we can lure the demon and his minions to? Things will probably get messy, and a bunch of civilians caught in the cross fire will just complicate things."

"By lure, you mean you're planning on using Dean as bait?" Sam grunted with condemnation.

"Look, Sammy, I'm not the one who sold his soul and his life to a demon; he did that all on his own." Ruby snapped back. "I'm just trying to get it back, so if he has to be dangled on a piece of string… Then yeah! Bait! Or if you prefer we can just let him be doggy chow instead!"

"You want to tell us what you have planned?" Bobby demanded, still not persuaded to entirely trust her.

"Fine! The way I see it, Dean's only chance may be to draw out whoever owns his contract." Ruby informed them.

"And?" Sam queried.

"And kill their sorry ass!" Ruby replied. As far as she was concerned that was a given!

"I tried that already." Sam sighed. "Not as easy as you may think."

"I don't see how you could ever have any idea what I 'm thinking, Sam." Ruby rebuked irately.

"Look, I tried summoning the Crossroad demon, and she came and she pretty much told me she didn't… couldn't… She wasn't the one who held the contract." Sam snapped at her. "She wouldn't tell me who did."

"No, and from what I hear, she never will either…" Ruby glared accusingly at Sam, knowing that he'd killed her, and possibly exasperated Dean's situation rather than helping it. "But I kinda have an _insider's_ advantage in that area." Ruby pursed at him.

"You know who the Crossroads demon's boss is?" Bobby queried.

"Maybe, there are a few possibilities, but I have a fair idea." Ruby nodded. "Crossroads aren't an exclusive domain. That playground entices quite a few. Hecate, Bhairava, Eshu even… But there's some prefer it more than others. Just how did you summon the Crossroad's wench?" She queried Sam.

"Umm… a photo… black cat bones and cemetery dirt." Sam admitted to Ruby, under Bobby's intense scrutiny. He still couldn't condone the Winchester's fascination for summoning the likes of a demon to do their bidding…

"Ok… Then it could be Eshu or Legba, but my money's on Kalfu. But, in the end, it doesn't really matter." Ruby smiled with relief.

"Eshu, Legba…. Kalfu?" Bobby frowned. "Hoodoo deity?"

"Well yeah! Cat's bones and cemetery dirt… _Mississippi_… definitely Hoodoo…" Ruby smiled smugly.

"You really think this can work?" Sam questioned her.

She nodded. "Yeah… If we can stave off the hounds long enough… and any wenches he may send, then hopefully we'll piss him off enough he'll come himself to collect his prize: who ever he is!"

"I suppose it just might work..." Bobby mused. "It's not gonna be considered reneging is it?" He glanced at Sam. How could he ever pick between the two brothers, and even worse, how could he live with himself if his attempts to save one cost the other his life instead?

"What, a little chase?" Ruby mocked. "Bastard will probably enjoy the thrill of the hunt!"

"So, somewhere secluded?" Bobby queried, his mind ticking over the task at hand.

"Yeah, some place you can secure and fortify, keep them out, keep you safe." She replied. "If you know of a place."

"There's an old deserted town…" Bobby suggested tentatively. "Doctrine Springs, Arkansas. Supposed to be haunted... But definitely secluded, and not a civilian for 20 miles! Just the other side of the state line."

"Yeah, I know the place…" Ruby nodded as she exited their room, casting her head over her shoulder as she left. "And it's not as deserted as you may think."

"Its not?" Sam queried, following the demoness outside as she strode back out to her bike, with Bobby on their tails.

"No." Ruby stated, quite adamantly with a grin, as she mounted her bike. "But I'm sure you can deal with a few spooks too, if you get time. Most important, though, is to prepare. The church will be a good start. I'll meet you there once I find Dean."

"No! No, you won't!" Sam objected. "I'm going with you!"

"No, you're not. It's quicker for me to find him, alone!" She rebuked sternly. "We don't have much time as it is. You and Bobby need to make sure the church is impenetrable to both Hell Hounds and Demons. Besides, Sam, you reek…"

"So I'll chew a breath mint!" Sam glared at her momentarily. "What precautions? It'd be holy ground wouldn't it?" Sam objected.

"And you think that will stop them?" Ruby quipped as she chuckled mockingly. "Sam, of all people, you should know better! Holy water didn't even affect Azazel; you think holy ground will make a difference to a high caliber demon? Of course a few gallons of holy water wouldn't go astray over you…" She smirked, "… and a bar of soap."

"I'll change my shirt!" Sam snapped at her. "What then? Goofer dust?"

"It'd be a good start." Ruby replied, to both counts. She was eager to be on her way. She kick started her Harley and pulled her helmet back on. "And maybe a good old fashioned Devil's trap! I'm sure Bobby knows of a few mojo mixes that could come in handy..."

"I know a guy; can help us get what we need." Bobby muttered. "On our way through…"

As she revved her bike and prepared to leave, Ruby, suddenly stopped. "Let me have the Colt." She demanded impatiently of Bobby, who remained in the doorway, his eyes fixed on their last remaining shred of hope.

"What? You're kidding aren't you?" Bobby gruffed. "After all it took to get it back from Bela?"

"You want me to try and save Dean or not, because if you've got any better ideas by all means get your asses into gear and go do it!" She snapped. "It's not like I can fend of a Hell Hound with my bare hands!"

"She has a point…" Sam muttered.

"Sam, this may have been her plan all along!" Bobby objected, glaring at Ruby. "Is that what you wanted from the start, the Colt?"

"You're kidding, right?" Ruby snapped at him.

"I doubt it Bobby." Sam interrupted. "She's the one who got it working in the first place. She could have killed you for it back then if she really wanted it. Please Bobby, this is for Dean." He pleaded.

When Bobby remained hesitant Sam reached out to Bobby. "I'll take it then! I'm going with her!" He stated sternly.

"Sam?" Bobby protested.

"Bobby, Dean's not gonna trust her, he never has…" Sam explained.

Sam was obviously torn between reason and emotion. He wanted nothing more than to go after Dean, because he still didn't fully trust her… and, he feared, neither would Dean! He ducked back inside and grabbed a new shirt out of his duffle and a packet of chewing gum from Dean's.

"Sam no…" Ruby interjected. "Dean trusts me… really." She called to him impatiently. At least, as much as Dean could ever trust a demon at any rate. But now wasn't really the time to reveal the little heart to heart she'd had with Dean, where she'd revealed more than just a little about herself and his future to the eldest Winchester. And, more importantly, much to Sam's anger, a shit load about what was going on about him. She knew Dean had appreciated her honesty, even if wasn't what he'd wanted to hear.

"If you want the Colt, then you'll have to take me with you!" Sam demanded stubbornly when he returned, pulling on his new t-shirt.

"Sam, no…" She began to protest.

"It's me and the Colt, or nothing!" Sam demanded.

"You mean its Dean's eternal ever after…" She snapped back. However Sam refused to back down.

"Then I'll go alone." He snapped. "I can take down a Hell Hound."

"Yeah, especially one you won't be able to see or hear!" She rebuked. "That's one I'll have over you Sam. I can see and hear them!"

"I'll manage!" Sam snapped as he stated to march towards Bobby's pickup.

Ruby stood her ground and shook her head. "And how's Bobby gonna get to Doctrine Springs?" She queried with obvious cynicism. Sam stopped short, realizing she effectively held all the cards. They needed to leave now, and even if he was to steal one of the 'not quite choice' vehicles currently parked in the motel car park, he'd be chewing up precious time. Time Dean may well not have! He was almost about to concede defeat when Ruby interrupted his defiant act.

"Look fine. Come with me. But _only_ if you bring the Colt!" She demanded. "And stay outta my way!"

"Thank you." Sam sighed as he tossed a piece of gum theatrically into his mouth and smirked confidently.

"Ok. But we'd betted be getting it back, sweet heart!" Bobby snarled at Ruby. He pulled it out from his waist band, where, since Bela had snatched it from under their noses, he'd taken to hiding it. Getting the damned pistol back had been no easy task and he wasn't about to let anyone else get their hands on it.

"You _can_ handle things, can't you Bobby?" Sam queried quietly as Bobby passed him the Colt.

"Well… yeah." Bobby nodded as he whispered. "Don't quite trust her myself…"

Sam checked that the Colt was loaded, and then shoved it down his own jeans waist band. Bobby handed him extra rounds of his specially cast and blessed silver bullets, all that he had cast.

"Great, Bobby's got it all under control. He knows what to do better than I do." Sam remarked with confidence to Ruby. "But Dean's never gonna trust you, no matter how good your plan is. Besides Mississippi's a big state and I know exactly where to go!"

Sam leapt down the steps and mounted the motorbike behind her, wrapping his arms firmly about her waist in a defiant show that she wasn't going anywhere without him. She pulled her helmet back on, with obvious irritation. "You'd best hold on… and put the other helmet on." She smirked at him. "And just so you know… _I'll_ be taking that Colt once we get there!"

Sam begrudgingly pulled the second helmet on, barely keeping his seat behind her as she spun the bike around.

"See you…" She called to Bobby as she revved the Harley and raced down the gravel road, kicking up stone and dust in her wake. Sam had to tighten his grip, just to stay seated. Bobby stood and watched them leave with mounting trepidation. They were headed for one hell of a show down, provided Ruby and Sam could find Dean in time…

"See you." He muttered in response, as he turned around, returning inside to pack, whilst berating himself for not having thought of a similar plan. It was relatively simple and logical; of course demons didn't always follow such earth bound fundamentals, but it was still a viable chance. If not their last and only hope.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

**Sorry, so I forgot to add a disclaimer and stuff to chapter 1. And although I tried to edit and add it later it doesn't appear to have stuck! (Should I mention now that I'm blonde and on my fanfic 'learners' plates?) So, if it's miraculously appeared since, sorry, I'll just be repeating myself, otherwise, here goes, my personal piece of author's drabble…**

**OK, so this is not my first fanfic perse, however the first I've ever posted, all else have been for my own pleasure. So basically I've finally scraped up the guts to actually open myself up to criticism… and praise (please)! This is the first piece of work I've allowed anyone else to read, bar myself, at least since I had to churn out copious pages of dribble in the form of English Lit essays at school. **

**Obviously don't own anything, except when my fingers grace my keyboard, then the Winchester boys are all mine to do with as I wish!**

**And in case you're wondering most place names (except a few obvious ones), all characters etc are fictitious.**

**I also like to bend and occasionally break certain literary, grammatical (and on very rare occasions, road) rules… like beginning a sentence, and a paragraph, no less, with the likes of 'and'! Forgive me if you're a stickler for the literary correct, I will at least try to correctly use my spell checker…**

**And, although I am probably beginning my literary adventure ass-about, I couldn't help myself… first and foremost I had to try and save Dean. I have a few different ideas on this one, so, perhaps before Kripke gets in there before me I can do a Loki and in true Groundhog Day tradition I may just save him in all manner and fashion.**

**No relation to, or friend, of anyone remotely connected with show, so no spoilers. **

**AND I won't spoil the conclusion, so I won't say if this is or isn't a Death!Fic.**

**I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it.**

**Chrissymi. **

**CHAPTER 2**

Greenwood, MISSISSIPPI.

"Hey Baby, as much as I'd like to go out right here in your embrace, I just can't bring myself to bloody up your interior. Sorry Baby, this is good bye." Dean caressed the Impala's dashboard with deep affection. The classic 67 Chevy was the only thing he could ever call home. No matter how good or bad a hunt, injured or otherwise, rain, hail or shine, she had always been his sanctuary. His one possession that grounded him in a life always spent on the road. "Don't worry, I left Sam a message, so he'd know where to find you… it may take a few days though, Baby. You look after Sammy, ok, behave yourself. And be patient with him, he doesn't know you and all your little subtle hints when something's not quite right. He'll look after you; just give him time to get to know you."

Dean had parked the Impala near Lloyd's Bar. The bar seemed deserted; there certainly weren't any cars about. However as Dean alighted the car he noticed a man sitting outside the bar, in the shadows of its verandah. He was rocking in a rocking chair, contently smoking a cigarette. The man was dressed in a black, pin striped suit and tie; however, strangely, he didn't look out of place. Rather he seemed to encompass a classic, 'bluesy' air. Dean could almost imagine him playing a guitar or a saxophone, or whatever. Dean nodded to the man in acknowledgement, although he did not expect the man to rise from his casual hiatus in the rocking chair. The man was tall and muscular and when he smiled his teeth looked as white as snow against his dark chocolate skin. He leered intensely from beneath his fedora as he approached Dean.

"Ain't open, man." He commented, sucking back on his cigarette and inhaling deeply as he openly coveted the Impala with a keen grin. "Not tonight." He exhaled the smoke with a long drawn out breath. The fumes swirled about the man in a hazy caressing embrace.

"No? That's ok." Dean replied as he concealed his car keys behind the wheel rim, under the guise of checking his shoe laces. The guy didn't seem to notice, his attention fixed more so on his cigarette stub for the time being. He stared intently at it as he turned what remained of the self-rolled butt between gloved fingers. "I was planning on taking a walk anyway." Dean explained.

Deep brown eyes, swimming in ivory pools and partially hidden beneath his hat's brim glanced back at him. The man nodded, gazing at the sky in thought. "Be dark soon." He stated, peering back at Dean with an air of mystery about him, smiling like a Cheshire cat. "Welcome to stay a while's, here, if'n you'd like." He tossed the waning cigarette stub away with a swift flick of his fingers.

There was something about the man that unnerved Dean; he was almost too polite, with a grin that verged on maniacal. _'Or maybe it was some really good weed the dude was inhaling!'_

"Thanks, but I was looking to have some time to myself…" Dean muttered in response. He wasn't really in the mood for polite conversation; however he wasn't of a mind to offend the man either. He was just a little too creepy. "See you."

"Sure I will!" The man replied as he sat back down in the rocking chair, his sight fixed on Dean as he swaggered away. His eyes darkened with content as he lit up another cigarette and drew eagerly back once more, tilting his head back before exhaling the thick black smoke into the gentle, afternoon breeze.

Dean had every intention of walking a few miles down the road, maybe even to the next crossroads to await his fate, or somewhere off in the grass lands. He really didn't want Sam and Bobby finding his mauled remains. Once he was gone, he was gone; he didn't much care for a funeral. Technically he'd already had one of those when a shape shifter, that bore his resemblance, had been killed. But he had to know they'd find the Impala. He'd left Sam a message as to her location that he hoped Sam would probably get in the next day or so, once he and Bobby stopped running around like decapitated chickens as a result of his escapade, or so he thought. He just prayed nobody decided to steal his Baby before then, but then Lloyd's bar was pretty secluded, and hopefully the man there _wasn't_ a car thief.

He took his whiskey bottle in hand, and secreted a packet of peanut M&M's in his jacket pocket. Then he began his final walk, chucking back a mouthful of M&Ms followed by a huge gulp of whiskey.

He glanced at the scenery as he ambled down the dusty, gravel road. It was mostly farming land, lush and green for the time being. _'Talk about The Green Mile'_ he mused to himself, chuckling at the irony of it, recalling the Tom Hanks movie about a rather special death row inmate. Dean wondered if there could be anyone around who could bring him back to life as well…

After an hour Dean found himself a peaceful spot under a huge overhanging tree. It wasn't quite at a crossroad, but then that wasn't exactly a prerequisite. He liked the view, and he was a fair way back from the road itself, and that would do. It was late afternoon, and the sun was getting low on the horizon, but the tree gave him ample shade. He sat down at the base of the trunk. After taking in the landscape he opened the whiskey bottle and took a long gulp. Then he grasped a handful of M&M's and began munching contently away.

And it struck him with some amusement, after just some ten minutes, that he was impatiently bored. He'd checked his watch three times already. He laughed at himself, _who'd have thought he'd be eager for this to be over_, but then the waiting was nerve wracking. He didn't like to wait at the best of times, but waiting to die… yep, he just wanted it over with. Like waiting at the dentist, no matter how much he dreaded the procedure, he still wanted it done. If his fate couldn't be changed, then just get it over and done with! And besides, his ass was going numb!

As the shadows grew longer across the road, and the nearing gloaming cast a hazy brilliance over the countryside Dean was sure he saw something very big and black moving through the bushes to his right. There was a hint of a breeze, however the bushes rustled with greater intensity, as if something was moving through them. He knew they were there, waiting for him, the Hell Hounds had come.

Dean fingered his colt with affection. His trembling fingers ran over the cool silver metal work, savoring its engraved beauty as he caressing the well worn ivory handle. It had once been his father's, and that alone made it one of his few prized possessions. And John had had it for years before Azazel had destroyed their lives, and probably the only thing, aside from the Impala that had a vague connection to a life with his mother as well. John had given it to him on his 18th birthday, and although it was more of a desperate ruse to gloss over the fact that he'd actually forgotten Dean's birthday, John's eldest son had almost been brought to tears by his father's gesture. He checked that it was loaded, even though he'd done the same just a few minutes earlier. He just needed to be sure she'd be reliable when the time came. Not that he planned to use it on the Hounds, he already knew that would be futile. But he figured he'd have to wait for the hounds to come for him, before he put the muzzle to his head, just incase suicide - at least too ahead of time - could be deemed welching. He'd staunchly promised himself the hounds wouldn't take his final breath, wouldn't tear him apart, or rip his throat out whilst his heart still pumped blood through his living body. He'd deny them the agony of such a death; he'd suffered enough in his short years. No, the Crossroad Demon wasn't going to get his suffering as well, that was his; _all his_.

Time passed slowly, although eventually he sat in almost complete darkness. The moon was out, as if to witness Dean's final moments, and had bloomed into a full circle just for the occasion. The dim light was at least some small compensation to the blinding darkness.

He could hear the Hell Hounds again, lurking in the bushes that lined the roadside. He'd heard their unmistakable, low guttural growls, had for some time now, ever since the sun went down. And he was pretty sure he'd seen their glowing red eyes through the vegetation too. They were obviously waiting; biding their time until his was up…

Ruby and Sam arrived at Lloyd's Bar well into the night. The ride had been long and grueling. Every bone in Sam's body felt as if it had been shaken to almost snapping point. As impressive as her bike was, its suspension was almost non-existent. And Ruby's control of the bike, although extraordinarily adept, was nerve wracking to say the least. She barely stopped; pushing the bike beyond its manufacturing limits, tearing across the country side at speeds worthy of a stealth jet. Sam was awe-struck that they'd made it there alive at all. But they had made extremely good time!

The two stops they were forced to make on the way, so that Sam could relieve his stomach of its mostly alcoholic contents, was a sore spot for them both. She didn't seem to need to stop; not for food or water or for the Ladies Room. And she begrudgingly did so under verbal duress for Sam. She was part freaking Terminator, he was sure.

When they finally pulled up outside Lloyd's Bar both were near the end of their tethers. However the relief that swept over Sam, when he spotted the Impala, washed away every minute ache and woe. Until they found Dean gone… again! Lloyd's Bar was closed, and no-one was in sight.

Sam searched every inch of the grounds surrounding the near century old building. And when Dean still wasn't found he began to pick the lock to search inside.

"He's not here Sam." Ruby was adamant. "You're just wasting time."

"How can you know that?" Sam spat at her in desperation.

Ruby simply glared at him in response, rolling her eyes. Of course she knew, she was a demon, and demons knew these kinds of things… they had senses far beyond a human.

"He's gotta be here." Sam sighed as his lock picking tools simply didn't respond to his request to open the door.

"Let's go." She stated simply. "He can't have gone far."

Sam eventually nodded in acceptance. "I'll take the car." He stated. "You got any idea where he went?" He hoped she could tap into her demon senses and pull out an answer.

She squinted into the dark and scoured each of their four possibilities, at the crossroads. "That way." She eventually said confidently as she mounted her Harley. Sam peered down the road, but saw nothing but pitch black.

"You sure?" Sam queried, partially skeptical, partly awestruck.

"M&M's that way." She smirked confidently as she pointed down the road. And although Sam focused his sight into the darkness, still at a loss at what she had seen, she smiled. She could see the two brightly colored spheres, one yellow, one red, lying in the center of the road, even if he couldn't.

Sam had to nod with admiration, if not dumbstruck awe.

Ruby tore off long before Sam had time to approach the Impala; he would have to haul ass or risk loosing her altogether.

"Damn you Ruby…" He sprinted to the car as fast as his long legs could carry him. He was relieved to find Dean had left the keys secreted behind the wheel rim of the driver's side, front fender, as he usually did. He gratefully ripped the Impala's door open and hurled himself inside.

Like a man possessed he sped the car, at breakneck speed, to catch up with Ruby. She had a good head start, and he feared he'd never catch her. He blindly followed her. She was out of sight and he had no real idea if she was still ahead of him, or if he was even heading in the right direction. His only comforting thought was that he hadn't come to any further crossroads or alternative routes as he sped through the night, tearing up the road in his haste. He had traveled a few miles before he finally spotted a small pin prick of light far off in the distance. Ruby's headlight, he hoped. He pushed the car faster, racing up behind her.

Dean sat beneath the tree and skulled large mouthfuls of the exquisite whiskey, rolling the velvety liquid around his mouth in appreciation. He was intent on relishing every last intoxicating drop in lieu of his escape-determined restraint of the night before! He was going to drown away the growing sense of doom that had filled him, and was now growing like a cancerous disease in the pit of his stomach. The alcohol was warm and dizzyingly calming in his current predicament. He'd sit there all evening if need be, intent on consuming the entire remains of the bottle, or at least until the Hounds came. It had been 2/3s full to begin with, although wasn't quite so any more. The whiskey gave him an all over dulled sensation that helped alleviate the uncomfortable numbness that had set into his ass.

Dean smiled to himself as he recalled Bobby and Sam's drunken antics of the night before, however despite their inebriation they maintained a steady abstinence from the topic of death or demons. And even though he knew their jovial laughter and repartee were a forced façade, Dean basked in their humor. He had to scrounge for a handful of happy memories to focus on, to stamp out the impending horrors that tried to force their way into his thoughts with every rustle in the bushes, and every low, guttural growl from the shadows.

He sat gazing at the faded photo his dad had once carried with him; of his dad, and Sam and he, when they were just kids, sitting on the Impala's hood; about as happy as a dysfunctional family could be. It was one of the few photos he had of any of the Winchesters. And he regretted that a little now. It would have been nice to remember some of their happier times, and there weren't that many that he'd need a particularly large photo album.

As he made sure that the pistol was loaded once more, and checked the time, again, Dean heard a deep muffled humming. Not quite that of the hounds, he was sure. The noise urged him to peer into the darkness for a source. It wasn't long before he saw a solitary light well off in the distance. It was completely dark, and lacking any kind of street lights or even any nearby houses, the road was completely cloaked in darkness. The full moon was his only amnesty to the all-consuming shadows. He sucked back another mouthful of whiskey as he watched the small pin-prick of light round a bend, some distance away and head towards him. It came from Lloyd's. The bright white orb of light grew larger, and the droning noise got louder. He hadn't anticipated company. But then it wasn't likely to be Sam or Bobby, not on a motor bike at any rate. And there wasn't anyone else he could think of. His mounting alcohol induced stupor did nothing to alleviate the intrigue. _Maybe just a local…maybe the man from Lloyd's Bar._

This was the first vehicle to come his way all day. It was difficult not to fear that it had something to do with him. It was almost midnight; execution time Dean figured, as it was pretty much midnight when he'd struck the deal. So it was a little concerning that even if it was just an innocent passer-by, they could be in real danger if the Hounds decided to make an appearance.

Dean stood up, intent on hiding himself from the intruder, and moved into the concealing shadows of the tree.

Ruby skidded to an impressive halt, in a wake of gravel and dust, although only just saving herself from sliding out… with _unnatural_ strength, as the bike skidded on the gravel. She hadn't anticipated finding Dean just yet, as Lloyd's Bar was only a few miles or so back. But here he was, in the middle of nowhere, apparently trying to play hide and seek. However such games were difficult to engage in when you played with a demon. She sensed him well before her demonic eyes spied him in the shadows. If she hadn't been a demon, chances were she'd have missed him altogether. Although Sam was still a way back, penalty for trying to fold his mile long legs into the Impala she speculated.

Dean watched as the obviously female rider kept the bike from spilling her halfway across the road. As far as he was concerned she controlled the weight of the Harley far too well for her slight frame and immediately he became suspicious.

Once she had stopped though, and seemed to be peering directly at him, Dean made himself known. He was already half smashed if his dazed and groggy stance was any indication. The bottle hung limply from his hand as he glared at the intruder of his solitude.

She casually leant her bike slightly to one side, to gain a firm foot hold, as she removed her black, visor helmet and shook her hair free. Dean became even more skeptical.

"Ruby? What, the hell?" Dean began to snap at her angrily as he stepped towards her.

"Dean." She grinned at him.

His advance halted within a couple of steps and then he staggered backwards as her face stretched and faded to pale grey and her eyes blackened to hollow cavities. His fears and suspicions escalated. "_You've_ come for me?" Dean snarled at her as he cocked his gun and aimed it at her. "I shoulda known you had some kind of ulterior motive! You've been stringing us along all this time!"

"Dean I didn't come to…" She began to explain.

"What the hell are you?" Dean demanded as her features grew more evil in appearance. "I can see your true form now. Stay away from me!"

"I haven't come to kill you." She chided, remaining perched on her bike, her hands held up in surrender. "I'm here to try and _save_ you." _Mind-you_, she thought_, saving Dean had become something of a pre-occupation lately, and a damned thankless one at that!_

"You lying bitch, you already said you couldn't!" He accused. Dean staggered away from her even though her face miraculously morphed back to normal. He knew something was up, something evil to the core.

He was stunned when the Impala eventually pulled up in front of him. For a split second he almost thought the car was possessed or the like; like Stephen King's 'Christine' and had followed him there. Until Sam gingerly alighted the car, still on unsteady legs, uncomfortably cramped from an inadequate amount of leg space, or time to move the car seat back. He was weary, hung over and half starved.

"Sam?" Dean queried with genuine bewilderment. "What the hell?… How… what are you doing here?"

"We're here to try and help you." Sam replied. "And besides, don't you think _I'd want_ to be here… for you."

Dean gazed at Sam with choking affection. It was damned good to see him again, he certainly hadn't expected to ever again. "Help me?" He eventually croaked out.

"Yeah Dean. Ruby thinks…" Sam began to explain what they were doing there, however Dean cut him short.

"Ruby? Sam, she's evil! An evil, lying, demon Bitch!" Dean exclaimed.

"Again with the Bitch routine!" Ruby muttered acerbically. _Just how many times did she have to save their butts for either one of the Winchesters to treat her with just a little respect?_

As Dean gazed at Sam's perplexed expression his pistol suddenly snapped towards his brother instead of Ruby, as the younger Winchester's face melted and distorted just as hers had. Sam's face contorted until his features twisted into something that looked like Death itself. "What the hell are you?" He demanded again, suddenly suspecting Sam and Ruby were both demons. He raised the colt and aimed at Sam's perverted face, hesitantly ready to shoot.

"Dean, NO!" Ruby intervened as she realized what had suddenly freaked the elder Winchester out. "What you're seeing, they're just hallucinations, it's the Hounds, they're doing it to you. It's really Sam… you have to trust me on that."

"No… evil… you're evil… you're both evil!" Dean stammered in horror. Their faces began to steep in horror, distorting like melting wax work dummies. He staggered backwards, stumbling over the tree's exposed roots and almost ending up on his ass. As he overbalanced his pistol discharged as he fumbled for a firm foot hold. The shot flew well above their heads, the noise swallowed by the vast openness of their location. However both Sam and Ruby ducked for cover.

"Dean, NO!" Sam pleaded, alarmingly more nervous. Dean drunk and scared was never a good combination. "She's right, remember Evan Hudson? He had the same visions… remember… please?" Sam urged, hoping Dean would recall some of the finer details of the hunt.

Dean shook his head clear of the apparition. And Sam and Ruby returned to normal. He kind of recalled something about visions of death accompanying the Hell Hounds. "Visions?"

"Hallucinations remember?" Sam pleaded.

"Sam, is it really you?" Dean queried nervously, everything about him seemed to spin and sway unnaturally. It didn't quite strike him that he may have consumed a little too much of the whiskey and was now hallucinating instead!

"Yeah, it's me… Sam" He reassured his ailing brother.

"Just… hallucinations?" Dean muttered.

"Yeah." Sam confirmed, however Dean remained tense and kept a firm grip on his pistol. "Trust me. You know it's me… don't you?"

Dean seemed to relax a fraction. "Hallucination…" he whispered, trying to convince himself as he cautiously lowered his gun.

"Look… There might still be a way." Ruby interrupted, impatiently maneuvering her bike around to Dean's side. "To save you."

Dean glared at her angrily. He'd already resolved himself to dying, _tonight_, and he didn't appreciate her eleventh hour grasp at straws. He could hear a low growl from somewhere in the undergrowth, and a distinct impatient rustle from the bushes that concealed it. The Hounds seemed to have become restless at the arrival of uninvited guests. God help her if her foolhardy last bid had endangered Sam as well… "I think you're a bit late." He snarled at her.

"No, we're not. Not as long as you're still breathing! Let's go! Get on!" She urged him with haste, putting her helmet back on, and pushing the visor back to speak. "Sam, get in the car!"

"No, we should go together!" Sam snapped back in objection. "_In the car!"_

"There's no time! _They're_ coming. Just try to keep up!" She snapped back impatiently. "The bike will be quicker."

"No!" Dean objected resolutely. "I can't… I can't welch on this, you know that! Sammy…"

"I didn't think the Crossroad Bitch had said anything about not trying to run!" She retorted anxiously. "As far as I know you don't have to make this easy for them."

"That's true." Sam added. "George Darrow managed to fend them off, must have been for over a week…"

Dean tentatively took the helmet from Ruby and spied it with distain.

"Trust me, you'd better." Sam advised nodding at the helmet. Although her riding skills were unnaturally good, riding shotgun with Ruby was one hair raising ordeal!

Dean shook his head with skepticism. "Seriously, how long do you think I can run for?"

"As long as it takes…" Ruby frowned impatiently. "Sam you wanna call Bobby for me?" She asked, holding her hand out in anticipation.

Sam pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket and dialed, and then he passed the phone over to Ruby. It must have been answered almost immediately.

"Bobby?... No Ruby… Are you ready?..." She queried. "Yeah, we've got him." She replied anxiously. "Yeah… A few hours." She answered another garbled query. "Yeah, Ok… Good."

She pocketed the phone as she revved the bike impatiently.

Dean spun around cautiously as the bushes rustled and he heard a low guttural growl that was clearly audible on the still night air, even above the low rumble of her bike. Ruby's attention scanned the edge of the bushes, also hearing them. She searched for the hounds she could already feel, by instinct, to be there. She was rewarded by a long cool red-eyed glare from an eager hound. Sam stood with bewilderment, unable to either see or hear them, but knowing they were there, somewhere.

"For as long as it takes… let's just move it!" She grabbed Dean by the arm and dragged him closer towards her bike. "Get on! NOW! You can at least try… for Sam!" She urged him quietly.

"Why are you doing this?" He demanded as he straddled the bike behind her and pulled the helmet on. He kept a watchful eye on Sam as he sprinted back towards the Impala, fearful the hounds may go him instead.

"Maybe I've grown attached to that cute little ass of yours…and your snide, derogatory remarks!" She quipped back as she revved the bike and raced away down the dark, dirt road. "Maybe I just don't want to see Sammy heart broken. Or maybe I just hate the Crossroad Bitch and her master!" She screamed to him over the loud roar of the Harley. Dean barely managed to grip her waist as he was thrust back with the momentum of her acceleration.

"Thanks…" Dean replied, gripping on to her for dear life, his appreciation lost in the noise of the Harley.

Sam raced back to the Impala. His long legs carried him in lengthy strides. The Chevy roared to life at his request and when he slammed his foot to the pedal the classic car leapt forward with such momentum Sam had to clench his fists around the steering wheel to stay seated.

As he tore away, the bushes by the roadside exploded in a flurry of leaves and branches as the Hell Hounds broke through the shrubbery. Although Sam was oblivious to their appearance, they raced past the Impala in long bounding strides, hot on the trail of Ruby and Dean. They were intent on stopping the fugitive.

There were three hounds, obviously the Crossroad Demon wasn't about to take any chances with its prized new soul. The huge beasts leapt behind the Harley as Ruby opened the bike up, full throttle, tearing down the road like a bat out of hell. Dean dared a glance back at his executioners. Their red eyes glowed through the darkness of the night, and their massive fanged jaws snapped at his heels, their pace easily keeping stride with the escapees. Up close they were as large as bears, their long, shaggy, black pelts glistened in the moon light, their lengthy lean legs, bounded gracefully in full flight as their jaws snapped at his side and crimson eyes pinned their sights entirely upon him.

"Faster!" Dean snapped his visor up and screamed into the wind tearing at his face with icy, razor quips. "FASTER!" He could feel their growls reverberate through his spine, and their icy rancid breath panting by his side, they were so close on their heels. He knew he wasn't going to make it. Their vain attempt at escape was a mere Sunday jog in the park for the mystically swift hounds. He tightened his embrace about Ruby's slender waist as she drove defensively, swerving from side to side in an attempt to avoid the Hound's murderous assault. Dean's eyes fixed on the harbingers of death and expected the inevitable.

Sam was ignorant to the hounds that skirted the bike, snapping at his brother's ankles. But he could see by the way Ruby swerved and weaved across the road, and Dean's wild expression and constant glances at his side that they were most certainly there. He hadn't thought they'd come for him quite so soon. He'd hoped they'd be too far away for them to even find Dean…

Ruby glanced at the hounds, startled by how close they were; suddenly wishing she'd coaxed Sam into relinquishing the Colt. She tucked her head down and pushed the bike to its limits and it leapt away faithfully, pulling away from the hounds, and the Impala, like they were standing still.

They seemed to have made a clean break, leaving the hounds in their wake, until suddenly Dean grunted, and his grip around her waist tugged at her. Then abruptly he was yanked from behind her. She fishtailed slightly on the thick gravel as she banked a corner. Then the world tumbled ass over in front of her. She was unexpectedly airborne, and the bike left her grasp with an abrupt jerk. The sounds of metal twisting and screeching, and screams of agony filled her ears as she somersaulted across the road and down a grassy embankment. At first she lay still, gasping for breath and staring at the immense ivory glow of the full moon above her. Pain wracked her body, her leather pants barely offering adequate protection, and her jacket torn to shreds, revealing bloodied elbows and palms. She lay still until she could force the pain away, injuries swiftly healed by her underworld abilities. Then her mind and senses returned and she sprang to her feet. She yanked her helmet off with ease, as she leapt up the low grassy bank and back onto the road she paused in horror.

Dean had seen the crucial moment as if it were in slow motion; the moment that would, most certainly, be the portent of his ultimate and gory demise. The largest of the Hell Hounds had made up the waning distance effortlessly. It snarled at Dean as it matched their pace with ease, its huge red eyes glaring him down in admonishment at his futile escape attempts. As it sprinted by his side Dean could see as its muscles contracted and bunched and the hound concentrated all its strength into one massive bound, lunging sideways at him mid-leap. Its huge fanged jaws widened and clamped down upon his right thigh. The immense span of its maw easily girthed his leg. With a sharp snap of its head, as it hunched to a halt, its huge paws digging into the gravel of the road, the demonic canine ripped its victim from the bike.

The Hounds had caught their prey and their huge fanged jaws tore into their struggling victim's flesh. Ruby winced in horror. Dean was pinned helplessly to the ground, just meters from the mangled wreck of her bike. One huge, black brute ripped at his thigh, another tore at his left shoulder whilst he tried desperately to fend the beasts off. The third mauled his right forearm, its crushing gnaw tearing through both flesh and bone in its savagery. Their fangs ripped through his soft tissue like a surgeon's scalpel. He struggled to retrieve his pistol, secreted down his jeans waistband, the hound's grasp on his shoulder restricting any such movement. As resigned as he was to die, with his thoughts filled with renewed hope, Dean wasn't about to let the Hell Hounds take his final breath, and as instincts kicked in, he wasn't about to go out without a fight either. As long as they couldn't get his damned helmet off, his throat was reasonable well protected from their oversized, snapping jaws, although the hounds seemed unperturbed and savaged him where they could with unhindered ease. They tugged at his limbs, threatening to draw and quarter him, whilst Dean screamed in agony.

Sam slammed the Impala to a screeching halt, mere feet from Dean's writhing body. He sprang from the Impala before the car had even come to a complete stop and gasped with horror as he saw as both Dean's clothes and flesh ripped apart, and blood swiftly gushed from the open wounds. The elder Winchester thrashed around with his invisible attackers, and although muffled by the helmet, shrieks of agony were torn from his screaming lips.

Sam fumbled for the Colt, not knowing where to shoot until Ruby ripped the pistol free from his grasp and blasted a shot into the Hound closest. Its grasp upon Dean's shoulder abated and the creature howled in pain and convulsed into death at his side. The remaining two spun around in unison and glared at her with eyes of fiery hell. Their huge stature dwarfing their recoiling victim, paws, as large as saucers, pinned Dean firmly to the ground.

With their momentary pause Dean was able to rip his colt from his waistband. He snapped the pistol up, and with a pain-trembling hand he blasted at the closest hound. The beast reeled around from the sheer force of the shot, although, it hardly made a dent on the creature or its deadly purpose. It swiftly limped back to its feet and then sprang back towards him with savage determination. It was angry and injured, and intent on swift retribution. Ruby shot at it, as it leapt into the air, with its gaping maw lunging at Dean. It was halted mid leap by the blast, its carcass skidding to the ground by Dean's side as its final breath was forced from its lungs by the impact. She spun around swiftly and plugged another shot into the third's chest. The Hound cart wheeled away from Dean's writhing silhouette and came to a gory halt several feet from the maimed hunter, all signs of life extinguished.

Sam froze with fear, oblivious to the Hounds, or their demise, but seeing all too well the damage they had inflicted on his brother.

As the landscape stilled and silence enveloped them Ruby trembled with fear. An iciness had descended upon them, and the sky grew eerily dark as clouds passed across the moon. She spun around cautiously, awaiting another onslaught. Every fiber of her being screamed at her that something else lay in wait for them, for Dean. Something else was there with them. She peered into the darkness of the shadows, into the thick foliage that lined the road and could almost make out the dark and menacing figure of something far more evil…

"Dean?" Sam hitched through an almost sob. Still stunned and weary of the hounds he couldn't see, he edged forward cautiously.

"They're dead…" She barely finished before Sam lunged forward. Ruby raced to Dean's side, close on Sam's heels, to find Dean gasping desperately for breath, as he clutched at his savaged chest with a bloody hand. Sam raised his lolling head into his lap, carefully removing the helmet. Dean gazed at Sam with pleading, desperate eyes. As oblivion encroached, Dean consoled himself that at least his last sight was that of Sam. As his eyes rolled back in defeat Ruby grabbed him by his jacket lapels and hauled him into a sitting position. A small avalanche of M&M's tumbled from his pocket in protest.

"You're not dying on me Dean!" She demanded as she continued to drag him to his feet with ease. "Get up!"

Dean hadn't the breath to speak, the brutality of her action's stunning him with pain, however his cold icy glare in retaliation expressed every ounce of anger and loathing he had for the interfering demoness. _Couldn't she just let him die in peace?_

Sam tried to object to the manhandling; however a swift glance from Ruby had him take a step back. She was serious, deadly serious… Black-eyed, demon serious.

"Something else is here, and close by!" She informed them with dour gravity, her demonic eyes scanned the countryside, looking for what every nerve in her body told her was there. "We gotta go, NOW!"

"What?" Sam dared to ask. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure, but it's big and it's bad!" She snapped back.

She wrapped her arm under Dean's and began to drag him back along the road as Sam came to their aid. Dean staggered and lurched in their firm grasp as his mauled thigh and calf refused to bear his weight. He fell to his knees twice, however, their resolute grip hoisted him back to his feet, with no scope for argument. His rescuers ignored his anguished moans of agony, although he fought desperately to suppress the pain. They hauled him all the way back to the Impala where Ruby shoved him unceremoniously into the back seat.

Without a word, Ruby jumped into the driver's seat and revved the Chevy's engines. Sam barely had time to get himself into the car, shoving Dean further across the seat to do so, before she sped away. They were launched into the air as she impacted with the carcass of one of the downed Hell Hounds. She gave her trashed bike a fleeting scowl of remorse as she raced past and sped into the night. The Impala's rear lights glowing just as red as the Hounds eye's had done just minutes ago.

Dean slouched against Sam, grasping at his wounds, clutching desperately as too much blood oozed through his fingers. The elder Winchester glanced at the thick crimson that coated his hand like house paint. "Can't be good…" He muttered to Sam, gulping down another groan, as he leant back against his brother's firm supporting shoulder.

As Ruby urged the Impala to full speed she flipped open Sam's phone. "Yeah, Bobby?" She eventually said. "We had a bit of trouble." She gave Dean a cursory glance in the rear view mirror as she listened to a query from the hunter. "Yeah, the hounds. They're dead, but there'll be more." She sighed. "No, not quite, he's hurt; better get your first aid box ready." More garbled talk came from Bobby. "Sam? He's fine. Only Bobby… _Something else_ is here…. No I don't know for sure. Better be ready for anything… Ok." Ruby replied as she flipped the phone closed and frowned in contemplation at the winding road ahead of her. Her sights went to the petrol gauge and to her relief the Impala's tanks were near full, because she didn't want to have to stop for anything.

"There'll be more?" Dean groaned. "More Hounds?"

"Yeah." She sighed. "Plenty more where they came from." She avoided his gaze in the rear view mirror.

"We can't stop them forever." He winced back with a smile of bravado.

"Yes we can." Sam consoled as he lifted Dean's jacket away from the wounds to his shoulder and grimaced at the gory sight. "We can try."

"No…" She corrected. "I doubt that we can. But hopefully they'll only send so many, before they give up."

"You think they… will give up?" Dean asked hopefully, patting Sam's probing hand away.

"The hounds give up? No… probably not." She muttered. "Not unless they're instructed to stop."

"Then why?" He moaned, in confusion. "Can't… run… forever."

"Because we _can_ beat them…" She stated confidently. She glanced at him now, seemingly nervous and quite serious.

"No point… I think… I'm done for…" Dean sighed as he clutched at the warm stickiness that bathed his chest and shoulder in excruciating pain. His leg trembled uncontrollably with agony and his right forearm seared with what felt like the very fires of Hell. But it was the icy chill that crept slowly through his body that told him… the reaper was stalking him too. He was loosing far too much blood!

"No you're not. It's just a couple of flesh wounds, Dean…" Sam encouraged, although he knew they were far worse, not quite sure who he was trying to convince...

"You think… they'll just give up… sending the hounds… after me?" Dean winced, his voice coming in tortured gasps as he clutched his injured arm protectively to his chest.

"Yeah, then maybe _He'll_ send his wenches, but hopefully we'll stop them too. Until, eventually He'll come for you himself. Then we'll have the Colt ready and waiting." She replied with strained optimism as she stroked the Colt sitting across her lap.

"He, who?" Dean queried as he bit back another groan as Sam peeled bloody strips of fabric from his lacerated forearm.

"The Crossroad Demon." She replied.

"I thought He… was a she." Dean muttered, glaring at Sam in a feeble indication to quit with his examination.

"He, she, depends on your preference… They're just his cronies. I'm talking about, the boss, _whoever_ it is that holds your contract." She mused. "From what I've heard, my guess is on Kalfu though. He's pretty rife at the Crossroads at the moment. But there are others. Kalfu's a real nasty piece of work though… a conniving, devious tormenter."

"Great…" Dean groaned. "And the Crossroad Bitch?" Dean winced; she was kind of hot really, but definitely a bitch.

"Which one?" Ruby frowned. "Kalfu's so busy now-a-days he has a heap of minions do his negotiating. Although, now-a-days, one less; I hear Sam, you already executed Cassandra."

"Cassandra? Yeah…" Sam grunted, devoid of any remorse. Unfortunately it had done them – Dean – no good…

Dean's head lolled groggily against Sam's shoulder as unconsciousness fought to claim him.

"Stay with me Dean." Sam instructed shaking him by the shoulder. A searing pain surged through Dean's arm and shoulder, radiating swiftly down his torso and elicitating a sudden hissed gasp of pain. His eyes widen in painful incredulity at Sam's brutal instruction.

"Sorry Dude..." Sam apologized. "You gotta stay awake… for me."

Ruby glanced at the brothers from the rear view mirror. She flicked the radio on to the sounds of AC/DC's 'Highway to Hell' and chuckled softly to herself with the irony. She checked the rear view mirror with a concerned scowl. Whatever she had sensed had frightened her to the core.

As the Impala sped off, a tall dark man revealed himself from the nearby bushes. She'd stared right at him, sensed him in the darkness, however he'd concealed himself well enough that she couldn't quite see him. He strode to the center of the road where his hounds lay massacred. He had others with him, huge black beasts that whimpered at their pack-members' demise. They sniffed at the fresh pools of human blood and a deadly blood-lust swelled in their fiery red eyes. Slowly he crouched down and plucked a number of spilled M&M's from the ground. He rubbed them between the fingers of his black-gloved hands and fell into contemplation. So far things had actually turned out still to his advantage, though not quite as smoothly as he had hoped. He offered the small treat to the closest hound and it gobbled the chocolate candy up eagerly. He indicated to another Hound to pursue his fleeing fugitive.

As he disappeared back into the shadows, the carcasses of the executed hounds slowly vanished in a thick black cloud of smoke.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

**CHAPTER 3**

Sam and Ruby were almost completely silent throughout the journey, contemplating their immediate future, and how they had come to be there…

Dean's condition, thankfully, hadn't deteriorated, not that he was crash hot to begin with! The bleeding, although not stopped completely, had abated significantly. Even so, Dean's agitated face, as he slipped in and out of consciousness, brought Sam to the brink of an emotional breakdown, right there in the backseat of the Impala.

During brief periods of consciousness Dean would gaze at Sam with an unconditional faith, and an undeniable joy at seeing his brother. He hadn't said much, too exhausted and drained to utter more than apologies for the circumstances they were in. Even so Dean managed to maintain solid walls of guarded pain. But it was enough to hack away at Sam's crumbling parapets of emotional stability. However the stoic Winchester couldn't hide his pain when he succumbed to the nightmares of unconsciousness, where not only he suffered the physical pain of the attack, but the vivid memory of it as well. Sam's guilt was mounting with every grimace and groan that passed his brother's lips: Knowing that everything that had happened was as a direct result of his own failure. Because he'd let his guard down, and he'd turned his back on a potential foe. He'd let Jake get the jump on him and now Dean was paying the ultimate price for his error...

They had finally come to the end of the line. It was do or die time. Sam knew if their desperate bid to save Dean from the Crossroad Demon failed, his brother would die - tonight. And that would be end of story… end of game… end of life as he knew it. He couldn't quite grasp how he'd managed to hide from the fact up until now, hadn't as yet ever contemplated that it was a possibility. He'd hidden behind tentative tendrils of hope and denial. But now, as Dean lay helplessly in his arms, in a veil of blood and savaged flesh, Sam realized it was up to him. Dean couldn't save himself; he had to do it for him.

Thoughts were steadily crashing in on him to break Dean's deal; to die as he should have… except he didn't really know just how to go about it. Would he have to wait for the Crossroad Demon himself to arrive, to offer himself up in Dean's place? If they couldn't stop the Demon, it was all he could think to do. Heaven help him if Dean found out.

Heaven help Dean…

Ruby studied the brothers as she drove. Who'd have though the Winchester name was actually feared in the Underworld? Before having met either she'd even imagined them to be some kind of super human, family force. Invincible even! Only goes to show you can't believe everything you read!

They looked pretty pathetic right now; one dying and the other turning into a sappy marshmallow!

She had observed the Winchester brothers for months now, twelve to be exact. And she had to admit sometimes she wondered if she hadn't put her money on the wrong horse. Sam was supposed to have been the next big thing, the Grand Po-bah, the new leader who would reign over the Legions of Hell. As far as a demonic messiah was concerned he hardly fit the bill!

That's not to say Sam hadn't impressed her on occasions. As Dean's demise seemed immanent the younger had even become brutally intent on filling his brother's shoes, which had him hacking away at his vulnerabilities. But although he was gradually shaving away and discarding so much of his sickly, compassion and humanity, it still stuck to him, in places he couldn't reach, like the decaying shreds of flesh on a skeleton.

Sam could fight, yeah, and he had impressive strength and skill, not to mention a whole Pandora's Box of abilities he hadn't yet unleashed. But unlike his brother, Sam lacked a true warrior's killer edge. There was something so ingrained in him that despite his apparent toughening exterior and his stripped compassion, there was always his humanity; a hesitation, a calculating split second, and a sympathetic charity that would always be his undoing. Already had been, actually… And it was Dean who was his greatest weakness, if not, ironically his greatest strength.

Dean on the other hand, although cocky and arrogant, painfully cynical and indulgent, with an ego the size of Everest, had it. He was a warrior through and through. Although it often verged on recklessness akin to a death wish! He had a hunter's instinct. Even though it could take him to the very brink of disaster, he always seemed to know just when to shoot, or run, or stop, without having to think about it. Sure he'd copped his fair share of beatings, his instinct wasn't always enough, but it had kept him alive thus far. And it had almost kept Sam alive too… almost. But even Dean was afflicted with the same deep, ingrained weakness; his humanity. But he was now paying the price for his monumental mistake as his brother's keeper, and for that he may well soon die… they all might!

On one count the brothers Winchester were equally fallible; they were each other's weaknesses.

That year ago, at Cold Oak, Dean had let his emotions get the better of him, had let Sam's disappearance unbalance him. He hadn't quite been on top of his game and he had let Sam die. Or so he thought anyway, over protective big brother that he was. Gossip around the demonic water cooler had suggested it was actually Sam's own doing… that it was his _humanity _that had let him down, because he had let Jake live, and thereby inadvertently sealed his own death warrant.

But in true protector mode Dean had found a way to remedy that. He went and sold his soul, and his life, and damned himself to Hell. And Sam was saved. Woo-Hoo!

The Winchesters had unwittingly started a turn of events of monumental proportions.

Events that began with Sam's resurrection. Ruby chuckled a little to herself, Dean had no idea just what price he'd paid to have his brother returned to him. Sam's resurrection had had a powerful impact on the Underworld; there were both celebrations and commiserations. Not to mention the celebrations of those that could finally seek their vengeance on the hunter who had condemned them to Hell and would now soon to join them.

There were many demons who rejoiced that Dean had brought Sam back. He'd done the Underworld a favor by resurrecting their demonic messiah. He'd brought Sam back for a destiny big brother may not be altogether pleased about. And he'd brought him back even stronger than he'd been before, because the Crossroad Demon had brought Sam back… a little off. Unbeknownst to his big brother guardian, Sam had been stripped of huge slabs of compassion and humanity; almost all his inhibitions had been obliterated. He'd been tweaked towards a more demonic destiny.

Then Dean had executed Azazel, one of the few who could keep the legions of demons in line. And when the Hell's gate was opened it was like splitting open a wasp's nest. Demons of all ranks were let loose. An all-sort of demonic chaos was set free upon an unsuspecting world. From the gutter-slime, blood thirsty variety to the likes of massacring demons of mass destruction, like Lilith, and hundreds of ambitious souls in between. In the struggle to escape the torturous prison of Hell a multitude had clawed their way out with the masses into the light of day.

The race was on, for a new leader, and there were many powerful contenders in the ring. But ultimately only one could succeed, and there would be a blood bath before that one could rise. And whoever it would be, would have to pull the frenzied masses together into one all mighty power. Sam's resurrection had split a number of faction's vying for power… those that still supported Sam as a potential demonic leader and those that didn't. As a hunter Sam was a real threat, despite Azazel's failed attempts at getting him to go dark side. However, she speculated, the demons would probably fear him even more if he did. As the demonic prodigy, as the once up and coming right hand man of Azazel, he was supposed to have it all…

There was certainly something very special about Sam. Something that had made Azazel single him out above all others. And it was for that reason Ruby had become intrigued. Winchester buzz was all about even before the Devil's gate was opened. Sam Winchester was to be the prodigal protégée of the all mighty Azazel. Azazel was the ultimate power, the Lord of war, who had set his sights on Sam as his right hand man. Although, as yet, Ruby hadn't quite put her finger on just what it was that made Sam so special. It was something to do with their mother, Mary, even though it was their father, John, who had dragged them into the world of the supernatural, made them the warriors they had become. And although the secret was known to a few, high on the demonic echelon, she had no idea what Sam's secret was.

Mary Winchester was the key. But why Dean had been overlooked Ruby couldn't understand; he was certainly the better hunter and clearly the superior leader. But then he had never shown the same extraordinary abilities that Sam had, and she was curious to know if Azazel was directly responsible for those, or if that was what had attracted him to Sam in the first place. One would presume Azazel had chosen him when just a babe for a reason… and Ruby was hankering to find out why!

Dean's deal with the Crossroad Demon had presented Ruby with the perfect leverage to gain Sam's interest, and if she could actually pull this off and save his arrogant shit of a brother, maybe even his trust. Not that she'd actually thought of an escape plan until now…

But then, at first Dean was simply a means to an end.

Emotional blackmail was so, so easy on a huge poignant sap like Sam. Actually, in the Winchester case it would have worked on either sappy brother. Sometimes their brotherly bond made her want to puke! But it had worked to her advantage. Emotional blackmail was a wonderful thing. She sucked Sam in with promises of redemption for Dean, and in turn she got to needle her way into their lives. She even helped them eliminate a number of demonic opponents along the way! Including some of her own! Exterminating Tammi had freed her soul, not that the brothers would have known. She was now officially a free agent. But certainly a small fish in a very big ocean in the immense sea of demons. And in the process Sam had become her unwitting protector, which was another good reason for aligning herself with him. Dean she was still trying to convince, you'd think already saving his ass would deserve some credit, but evidentially not.

However she'd at least managed to infiltrate their inner sanctum. And sometimes that's all that was needed; a suggestion here or a concern there. She'd sown the seeds that would eventually grow into blooms of her desires. She had encouraged Dean to impart his warrior skills to Sam, hoping that his unwavering instincts and skill could actually be taught. And Dean, always his brother's keeper, had been intent on doing so. When Dean realized that Sam was some kind of trophy kill in the eyes of demons, her plans blossomed, ten fold.

She knew, in the world of demons life was survival of the fittest. Demons were a greedy, deceitful, envious and lustful pack of megalomaniacs, most of whom had the domination of all mankind, and demons alike, on their minds. All the others, the smaller inconsequential scum usually consisted of the murderous, depraved cockroaches, which, like a pestilent swarm, would need to be exterminated along with the rest of them! It was kill or be kill, and aligning oneself with the most powerful, most likely to survive, was a matter of survival. And she'd pegged her sights on Sam. She saw him for what he was, a _demon_ in the rough. A leader, who could, one day, be invincible, if it weren't for his reoccurring, fallible humanity. However, for now, she could use that to her own advantage, to manipulate him and coax him into becoming exactly what he was born to be; A King of the Underworld. And she was intent on becoming his Queen…

Although, at first, she had considered the Crossroad Demon's pact a blessing in disguise, an iron clad means to remove Dean altogether, lately she'd had to reconsider. One thing was clear; the Winchester brothers came as a package deal. They were each other's strengths. Like two sides of a coin they complimented each other, what one lacked the other had. They were always stronger together, and it was their union that had created the Winchester strength, even without John. But separated they fell apart. Only together were they a force to be reckoned with.

Ruby realized if she was going to back Sam, she had to first save Dean.

St. Dominic's Church

Dominion Springs. ARKANSAS.

They drove almost three hours before Ruby pulled off the main highway and zigzagged through the forested hills for another half hour, until she reached the abandoned mining town.

Dominion Springs once had a population of 1787, according to the sign post as they entered the town, until the mine closed and pretty much vetoed all other businesses some three quarters of a century ago. The town consisted basically of a court house, a school house, a number of small stores, a hotel and saloon and St. Dominic's. The Impala tore through the still and deathly quiet of the ghost town, as they sped through the deserted streets. Ruby knew the layout of the town, knew where to turn to get them directly to the church gates.

A tall iron fence surrounded the perimeter of the church and the cemetery behind it. The surrounding woods had steadily reclaimed the entire town, and the church was now nestled amongst a number of overgrown bushes and weeds. Several trees had sprung up, like tall dark intruders within the church gates. Had the iron gates been in better condition they too would offer certain protection from the evils that were on their way. However only one gate remained fixed and functional and a number of sections of the fence had collapsed.

As she drove through the gates, Ruby involuntarily shivered. She squeezed her eyes shut, as an instant wave of nausea swept over her, and steadfastly remained. She wondered just why she was doing this…

Bobby's pickup stood waiting outside the church, whilst Bobby hovered impatiently by the large double-doors. As soon as Ruby pulled up outside, Bobby leapt towards the Impala in long strides.

The weathered hunter almost ripped the Chevy's door off its hinges in his anxious haste.

"Aww… Shit… Dean?" He stammered at first sight of the elder Winchester's bloodied state.

"Bobby…" Dean forced a smile as he groggily gazed up at his pseudo-father. It was a sight he hadn't anticipated ever experiencing again and it was overwhelmingly reassuring.

Then Sam's huge hands were urging him to get out of the car. And although they were a welcomed contact, albeit a painful experience, Dean hadn't the energy to haul his weary body towards Bobby's waiting hands. Sam swiftly exited the car to come around by Bobby's side, where they eased Dean out of the car. Dean gratefully fell into Sam's strong arms as the younger Winchester wrapped his arm tight around his waist. Dean succumbed to the involuntary embrace as his body crumpled in their grasp. His energy was depleted and his pain far too great, he hadn't the strength to stand. He surrendered to oblivion's call. Sam and Bobby laced their hands beneath Dean's legs and lugged his semi-conscious weight into their arms. They had to carry him the short distance into the church.

Dominion Springs' house of worship was still in reasonably good repair, although a decent section of the roof, above the altar, had collapsed with age and white ants. Thick dust and leafy debris coated everything inside the church and, as they entered, filth was sent clouding about their feet. Bobby's foot prints were visible throughout, trekking his every move. The high-set, stained glass windows were all intact, bar one by the double entry doors. Inside most of the pews had been removed, all except those that had been fixed to the walls at the very rear of the church. Also removed were the pulpit and all other furniture. The cathedral-style, high wall at the rear of the church bore a shadowed outline of where a huge crucifix had once held pride of place. Similar ghostly silhouettes lined the walls where numerous pictures had once hung. All that remained of anything holy were the stained glass windows, depicting the life of Jesus Christ, two solitary angelic statues, one of which lay in pieces across the floor, the other had been decapitated, and a huge marble baptismal font off to one corner, most likely too heavy, or cumbersome to move. Bobby had filled it to the brim with water that he had subsequently blessed. All the windows and doors had a thick line of goofer dust and, for good measure, salt, laid across them. In the center of the church Bobby had laid out a large circle of the same. He'd also painted a devil's trap in front of the doors, and numerous symbols, some of which Sam didn't even recognize, in various places across the floor, along the walls and even on the door. In some places, along the window ledges, and in the corners he'd carefully placed small leather pouches; mojo bags most likely. In demonic terms, it was like Fort Knox!

As Bobby and Sam hoisted Dean's lethargic body into the church Ruby remained by the door, Colt in hand as she scanned the surrounding woods for any signs of more Hell Hounds or worse... They carried him into the center of the circle where the hunters laid Dean down. Blood loss and exhaustion had rendered him temporarily unconscious. Bobby was extremely concerned. Giving Dean a cursory examination by torchlight was unreliable at best. But even in the poor light Bobby could tell that Dean was pale and pasty, his skin damp and cold to the touch. A light sheen of sweat covered his brow and his breathing was rapid, coming in short successive gasps. He suspected Dean was going into shock, which in itself could quite quickly lead to death, Hell Hounds and demons aside.

"We'd best see to those wounds…" Bobby muttered, pulling his first aid kit closer. "But we gotta keep him warm." Bobby moved off to retrieve a blanket from his pickup, which, given Dean's state, hardly seemed adequate.

Sam remained by Dean's side, cradling his brother in his arms as fear and desperation swelled within him. He fought away the thought that Dean was doomed either way. That if the Hell Hounds didn't get him again, his injuries most likely would…

Bobby paused by Ruby's side as he exited the church. "You're not coming in?" He queried, pondering if she even could, given that it was sacred ground.

"Churches? Not really my thing…" She offered. "And besides, I can't, exactly…" She nodded to the goofer dust and salt lines with an expression of distain.

Bobby smirked briefly to himself. As deadly and brutally strong that a demon could be a simple line of cemetery dirt and a household condiment could stop them dead in their tracks!

"Anything out here I should know about?" He queried, scrutinizing the apparently quiet landscape, knowing she could see what he couldn't.

"Well there's an old man been keeping an eye on us, and a fat woman who can't seem to stop crying…" She explained. "A little boy and his dog…"

"Ok, other than the ghosts?" Bobby clarified.

"There's a whole grave yard out back you know…" She quipped with a hint of sarcasm. "But, no, nothing… yet. But it won't be long, I'm pretty sure I spotted other Hell Hounds following us…"

"And…" Bobby asked gravely, "what else did you see? Back at Lloyd's."

"I didn't actually _see _anything." She replied.

"I thought you said there was something else there?" Bobby queried, wondering if she was playing games with him, as demons usually do.

"I didn't see it." She snipped back. "I felt it… I just got a really bad feeling all of a sudden." She replied. Her eyes fixed on the tree line. "Like something was watching us from a distance."

"And that makes it a Big Bad because?" Bobby queried skeptically.

"Because when I get a really _bad_ feeling, it usually is Big and Bad." She replied tersely. If he only had the slightest idea of the demons roaming the earth that wanted a piece of Winchester ass!

"Great." He was about to move off when he paused. "Umm. Any, spooks we should be concerned about?"

"No." She smirked, lightheartedly. "There's a nasty one hangs around the saloon though, but he won't come onto consecrated ground."

Bobby nodded with relief. They had enough to deal with as it was. "Listen… Thanks. I'm still not sure any of this is gonna work… But thanks for trying…" Bobby's voice trailed off with mounting emotion. "… To help Dean."

She gazed solemnly at Bobby for a moment then offered him the Colt. "You wanted this back…" If only he knew… she hadn't done it for Dean.

Bobby was surprised by her gesture. "No. You'd best keep it; at least you can see the bastards." He ran his toe through the salt and goofer dust lines and waved her through.

She hesitated at first. All things considered, they were sitting ducks in a battle they'd soon be out numbered in. Hell Hounds aside, something so much bigger was coming that she knew they weren't prepared for. She glanced at the brothers; Dean was slumped lifelessly in Sam's arms, his wounds opened again and bleeding. Blood had soaked into Sam's shirt, blood was pooling beneath the elder's prone body; Dean was loosing a lot of blood. She pondered just how much more he could afford to loose. Right now, Dean pretty much looked like a lost cause anyways! And Sam… he was cradling his dying brother in his arms like some near-hysterical, sappy, nurse maid. It made her want to puke! She hated his sooky, pathetic, caring and gooey compassion. Sometimes it oozed off him like some kind of rose scented ectoplasm!

Something in the pit of her stomach urged her to walk away; to run away! She was undeniably on the loosing side… His adversaries had been right; he was never going to fulfill his destiny, he was still too steeped in mankind's humanity!

Then she caught a brief expression flash across Sam's face; a hardness almost, of brutal determination to beat the odds…

Maybe there was still hope. Hesitantly she put her faith back in the Winchesters; after all she'd severed pretty much any other ties! She carefully skirted around the devil's trap and made her way to Sam and Dean, where Bobby's precautions halted her once more at the next circle. Even she was safer inside, than out.

Bobby carefully joined the lines once more as he scanned the area for any signs that something wicked came their way. The moon had shifted to low on the horizon, dawn was just a few hours away, however, the night was at its darkest. He collected armfuls of any remaining items he could foresee they may need from his pick up, the blanket included.

When he returned inside he latched the door, shaking it to be sure it would hold against the Hell Hounds when they came. He found Ruby hunched on the floor by Sam and Dean, her arms wrapped about her knees, however still outside of the circle. She seemed noticeably affected by the hallowed grounds, or her injuries. She was almost as worse for wear as Dean, with scuffed knees and elbows; her clothes were dirt streaked and tattered. Demon or not she was visibly hurting. Even with the poor torchlight she was almost as pale as Dean and seemed to tremble. She unconsciously sucked on her lower lip with unease. Her gaze was fixed on Dean. Bobby was sure he detected some sense of sorrow or apprehension in her expression. She genuinely seemed concerned.

Sam tightened his grasp around Dean as the injured Winchester groaned and trembled with pain. Bobby knelt by the brothers and opened the first aid kit.

Bobby cut Dean's jeans leg open, revealing deep crimson gashes from calf to thigh. Much of the bleeding had ceased, except for a small number of profound lacerations across his thigh. Bobby's prodding examination elicited a gasp of pain from his patient.

"Sorry son… Take a deep breath… Just try an' take it easy…" Bobby consoled as he set about swiftly bandaging a thick gauze pad over the wounds, applying, he hoped, enough pressure to stem the flow of blood. As he bandaged Dean's leg Sam proceeded to cut away the tattered garb of his t-shirt and jacket, across his shoulder, to reveal further blood covered gore and carnage. Dean hissed with pain, as Sam's trembling hands examined the damage.

"Hurts Sammy." Dean groaned.

"I'm trying to be careful." Sam muttered. "But I gotta see..."

Had it not been for his helmet, the Hound would most certainly have ripped Dean's throat out. As it was, the hound's huge jaws had mauled deep puncture wounds and long gashes into Dean's shoulder and upper arm, extending to across his clavicle to his upper chest. Sam could see clear to the bone, to where his fractured collar bone protruded through the mangled flesh. The sight had him gag with horror and fear. The wounds were extensive, far worse than he'd tried to convince himself of.

"Aw, shit Bobby!" Sam gasped as he glanced at the concerned hunter. "It's bad…"

"It's Ok, Sam." Bobby tried to console, squeezing Dean's arm reassuringly. "Looks bad, I know, but I've seen Dean survive far worse. Haven't you son?" Bobby nodded encouragingly at Dean. "That time with the wendigo even…"

Sam had to believe him; for he couldn't face thinking Dean couldn't survive. Of course Dean had almost died that time, after he was attacked by a wendigo, despite being in a hospital. He wouldn't be privileged to that kind of luxury this time, not if they couldn't ultimately break the deal. Sam nodded as he carefully placed a gauze pad over the worst of the wounds.

"Yeah. I'm good…" Dean groaned, plastering a forced smile across his face.

"See… Dean's gonna make it through this." Bobby reassured both brothers. "All this."

Sam missed the growing despair and defeat evident in Dean's pain weary gaze, however Bobby caught it, seconds before the pain became all consuming and Dean's eyes wearily fluttered closed. It broke his heart to see the normally proud and defiant hunter succumb to the mounting odds against them, against him.

Ruby sat in silent contemplation of the trio. "Looks pretty bad to me." She refuted "I could always… you know… possess him." She pondered. "I could keep him alive, at least until all this is dealt with."

"Like hell!" Dean objected, having heard her, casting her a defiant, but beaten, glare. "I ain't gonna have a demon chick in me! Not after what had happened to Sam…"

"Wouldn't work anyway." Sam replied, wishing he could have avoided Meg's unwanted violation of his body. "We got tattooed with protection charms… neither of us can be possessed. Besides, what would happen to your host? Could she survive your injuries?" He queried. Ruby had been through a hell of a lot, and her host had taken several beatings, all of which Ruby could sustain, however they could very likely be fatal when inflicted on a mere human.

"She's not so damaged…" Ruby explained, picking at her shredded elbow. "A couple of grazes, a few old scars maybe… If she makes a run for it now, she could probably beat the hounds…" Ruby admitted. "And that charm you're so smug about, the hounds tore it up pretty bad. He can still be possessed!"

"What?" Sam daunted. He lifted the gauze to inspect the tattoo, and sure enough the lacerations at the hound's fangs had ripped the image apart. It couldn't possibly offer any kind of protection; probably never heal well enough to ever do so again. Sam made a mental note to himself, that _if_, no _when,_ Dean survive the ordeal, they'd be heading back to a tattooist in the very near future.

Dean suddenly flinched; his eyes snapping wide open in fear. Sam placed his hand reassuringly across his chest, concerned that he had provoked Dean's balk. However, Dean gasped as his gaze bounced around the church, searching, trying desperately to find the source of his terror. He tried to push away from Sam, as his stare fixed upon the doors. Despite his injuries, his hand flew instinctively to his waist band, to the pistol that was no longer there.

"No… no!" He panted, trying to shift his weary body across the floor. "Sam you gotta run… They're back… they're here…" Sam and Bobby both tried to halt his movement, fearful he would aggravate his injuries further. Sam glared at Bobby with equal horror, as concern for his brother escalated.

"Its ok, we got it covered… you're safe here." Bobby consoled.

"My gun…" Dean urged frantically. "It gone… Dad's gun…"

"I got it here." Sam replied, pulling the pistol from where he'd put it, safely in his own waist band and placed it reassuringly across Dean's waist. Dean gripped it with relief, albeit left-handed, for his right arm was too badly mauled to co-operate with any request to move. He clutched the colt tightly, for the comfort item that it was.

"Best be quick." Ruby advised, her attention fixed on the church doors as she staggered wearily to her feet. She could hear the same guttural howls from beyond the closed doors that had startled Dean.

She checked that the Colt was loaded. Sam patted at his jacket pocket, confirmed that he still had plenty of ammunition in reserve and passed her a handful of bullets. She shoved the precious ammunition into her pocket then raced towards the doors.

"It's the Hounds. They're here." Ruby called to them from her vantage point on one of the remaining pews at the rear of the church, where she could peer through the stained glass window through a broken pane. She loaded more shells into the Colt, although her eyes remained fixed on the black hounds that charged towards them outside.

Had it not been that the church went eerily quiet, they would never have known there was an abundance of insect and animal life living closely in and around the deserted town. However, the sudden silence was deafening. They all knew the hounds were there, even if only Dean and Ruby could hear them, or see them.

"Sam, you gotta… run…" Dean panted breathlessly. "Please… go…."

"Can you hold them off?" Bobby queried her. There was no point defending a dead man, and if they couldn't stabilize Dean's condition that was all he effectively was.

"Yeah…" She fired several shots into the night and smiled smugly to herself as two hounds bit the dust. Another two raced towards the church, but as they bound through the church gates they slowed noticeably, and grew instantly nervous. As they leapt up the church steps they came to a skidding halt at the doors where they recoiled in fear and scampered away. They weren't about to be easily persuaded into venturing anywhere onto holy ground. Instead they retreated to the perimeter where they ran in tandem, back and forth, at the church gates. They were obviously anxious to complete their task, but weary of venturing onto consecrated soil.

Standing at the window, and gazing at their torment Ruby knew their pain. Hallowed ground made her nauseous at best, and even that sensation had quickly developed into something far worse. She could feel as her energy drained and her blood seemed to boil in her veins. Stabs of pain hacked at her head and her insides, like she had been stuffed with razor blades. It took some time before she noticed Bobby was calling her name.

"Ruby! RUBY, damn you!" Bobby shouted until she turned to face him. "Did you get them?" Bobby repeated once he had her attention.

"A couple, but there's more." She replied. "For the time being they're hesitant about coming onto consecrated ground." She informed him. "But I can take them out…"

"I sure, as hell, hope this doesn't constitute welching!" Bobby mused, glancing at Sam cradling Dean in his arms. "Running from the damned things is one thing, killing them, well that a whole different kettle of fish!"

"Well I'm not dead yet." Sam replied, optimistically, "…and I think quite a few of the Hell Hounds are." He glanced at Ruby for confirmation of the fact.

"Technically Dean hasn't actually killed any of them, so he couldn't be accused of trying to welch." Ruby added to their discussion. "Ain't nobody said I can't kill the filthy, flea-ridden mutts!"

"Suppose that's something." Bobby gruffed as he inspected the lacerations along Dean's forearm. He tenderly ran his fingers along the savaged limb, fearing more fractures, and concerned by the depth and ferocity of the wounds. Bobby wrapped another gauze wad around the wounds and bound the bandage securely around Dean's arm.

Ruby fired at the remaining hounds. One fell to the ground instantly, whilst the other reeled around and scampered away, limping from its wounds, to take cover in the woods. It wouldn't matter she mused to herself, the Colt's bullets would kill it eventually.

Bobby bandaged Dean's shoulder, whilst Sam held him almost in a sitting position. Aside from a number of superficial bruises and rather extensive grazing, from when the hounds had dragged him off the speeding Harley Davidson, Dean's wounds were tended to as best they could.

Dean sighed groggily. "Please Sammy, you gotta go…" he muttered, gingerly raising his hand and squeezing Sam's arm. He still couldn't face putting Sam at risk, or having him witness his final death.

"I'm not going anywhere Dean." Sam rebutted stubbornly. "We're gonna beat this son-of-a-bitch!"

"Can't" Dean muttered. "Can't put you at risk…" He moaned. His struggle eventually depleted him of what small energy levels he had left, and ultimately pain and physical duress succeeded in defeating him and unconsciousness, once again, claimed him. He slumped back into Sam's protective arms with a muffled groan.

"Well, that's not your call, big brother." Sam replied to his unconscious sibling. "You may think it's your job to protect me, at all costs… well, it's my job to get your back and save _your_ ass once in a while..." Sam tenderly wrapped the blanket around Dean and continued to sit with him cradled in his arms. His hands gently pressed against the gauze pad across Dean's shoulder. It was quickly staining crimson with blood, far too much blood. For Sam, at the moment, nothing else mattered, not even the threat of the Hounds at the church gates. For as long as the threat remained outside, Sam wasn't moving. Because if Dean wasn't going to make it, he was going to be there, holding him in a loving embrace until his time came.

Besides, Bobby was doing enough worrying for the both of them. He glanced with trepidation at Dean. Color seemed to have returned somewhat to his face, although that could have been a trick of the feeble lighting.

Ruby was shooting at something again, in quick succession.

Bobby strode to her side and mounted the pew beside her then peered through the distorting effects of the glass. He carefully leaned in close to the widow pane, careful not to disturb the carefully laid line of salt and goofer dust. But he couldn't see anything, not because of the colored glass, or the dark skies outside. There just wasn't, as far as he could tell, anything there. However as Ruby fired again he could see, quite distinctly, as a cloud of dust rose as if something had nose dived into it.

"How many?" Bobby queried.

"Now? About a five." She replied, obviously taking aim at another. "They're getting braver," she added, "coming right up to the doors."

"Well, that can't be good." Bobby muttered.

Almost as if to punctuate his dread, a hound managed to avert Ruby's shot and pounced upon the door. Both Bobby and Sam watched as the door rattled and shook on its hinges; grim proof of their ominous situation. Bobby scampered back to the doors and checked that the age-old latch would hold. He could feel their immense weight as they pounced against the bolt. The force was enough to nearly knock him to the ground.

Ruby's fire ceased, although the pounding continued. Bobby gazed at her with inquiry. Ruby was leaning heavily against the wall. She seemed to waver in her stance; she was sweating and visibly swayed as she grabbed at the window sill for support.

"Ruby?" He asked her with concern. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah…" She replied with false confidence. "All this holy stuff's just kinda getting to me. I'll be ok."

In all honesty she felt as if she were suffocating, like the fires of hell themselves were consuming her, inside and out. Even the air around her was pressing down upon her with unrelenting force. Every fiber of her being urged her to smash her way out of the church and run. Run to the safety of unholy ground. She was sure the same sensation was what was spurring the Hounds on, driving them insanely wild in their task, and stirring them into a vengeful frenzy of retaliation.

Her vision blurred and her aim faltered as she resumed her vigil at the window. The hounds continued to pounce against the door with repetitive stamina; however it was not the doors alone that barred their access. The salt and goofer dust played a far more important role in preventing their entry. They were willing to give their all to smash through, whimpering in pain as their repeated efforts were successfully blocked. She fired again, and another hound was sent sprawling from the shot.

And then the pouncing stopped. Bobby checked the door once more, insuring they remained firmly latched, and double checked his lines of defense.

The pounding ceased and silence followed.

"What's going on?" Bobby queried her.

"I don't know, they just pulled back." Ruby replied.

Bobby was startled when the doors rattled again, almost pushed off their hinges.

"Ruby, what is it?" Bobby demanded. It was a constant pushing, rather than indicative of the hounds pouncing against it. "What the hell?" Bobby frowned as he considered the possible explanations. "Ruby?"

"Not the Hounds." She replied, there was nothing outside as far as she could see. The hounds had gathered together, close to the church itself, and just out of her sight, and range. Then, as the doors rattled again, she realized, as the icy wind forced its way through the broken glass and swept at her, blowing her hair from her face. The hounds had limited control over the forces, or their master did, by remote. She reloaded in anticipation of another attack. "They're trying to blow the doors in!" She explained to the confused hunter.

"Bobby!" Sam called, his concerns growing. The current scenario seemed all too familiar. Of when the hounds came for Evan Hudson and he was the only thing standing between them… whilst Dean had brokered his first deal with the Crossroad demon. "Bobby its wind…" Sam tried to warn of the elemental control the Hounds seemed to have when, with an all mighty bang, the doors were flung open. Instantaneously there was an explosion of splintered timber as the crude wooden latch shattered and a gust of rustling leaves burst through the doorway as the doors were finally blown off their hinges. They were sent flying into the church, the noise of the discharge echoing throughout and then swamped by the deafening howl of the ensuing wind.

One of the doors slammed into Bobby, knocking him to the ground, and burying him beneath.

"Bobby!" Sam cried as he eased Dean from his lap and sprang to Bobby's aid.

"No Sam!" Ruby cautioned as she leapt from the pew and sprinted towards Bobby. "Get back, I'll get him. Stay in the circle!"

If the Hounds couldn't get to Dean, there was no reason they wouldn't go for Sam instead. One way, or another, the Crossroad Demon would want its soul, and either Winchester soul would probably do.

Sam paused, as he considered his options. However Ruby was already by Bobby's side, hoisting him to his feet and half dragging him back to the circle. Blood streamed down the side of his face and he was visibly dazed and confused. Unable to step over herself, she had to pass Bobby to Sam. However the salt and goofer dust lines were broken by Bobby's stumbling feet and Ruby was unable to fix it…

With another gust of wind the fragile lines of salt and goofer dust were blown from the door's threshold and Ruby gasped in angst as three huge hounds leapt through the entrance, skirting the devil's trap as if it were a snake pit. She glanced at the fractured lines of restraint that circled the hunters, with trepidation.

"Sam, the line!" Ruby yelled as she ran forward towards the hounds, firing at the first demonic canine bounding towards them. Sam struggled with Bobby's lumbering weight, easing him down by Dean's side in haste. He had no idea just where the hounds were, or how many, however he could see by Ruby's panicked expression that their circumstances were dire.

"Ruby…" He called to her, hesitant to repair the dust and salt lines. "Ruby, get in here!" He urged her.

"Just fix it Sam!" She shouted. She would never make it to the circle in time. Their only hope was for her to eliminate the hounds as they leapt through the doors. She shot at the next hound, as another two forced their way into the church. It would appear consecrated ground was loosing its inhibiting effects upon the hell hounds. As she spun around, to face one of the charging creatures she was thrust to the ground by another.

Sam watched in horror as she was pinned helplessly to the ground, gashes appeared along her arm, from her invisible attacker. He anxiously reconnected the salt and Goofer dust lines as he watched numerous paw prints and smudged tracks appear in the dust upon the floor as they leapt towards her. Then her side was opened up and her shirt instantly stained crimson. Ruby cried out, in her weakened state the pain was enough to hurt even the demon within. Sam was at a loss as to how he could help her; not when he couldn't even see the hounds!

Desperately Ruby thrust the Colt up and blasted the beast that pinned her down, clean in the chest. Her aim swiftly moved and she fired again, somewhere off to her right. Sam observed as she apparently pushed a huge weight off her splayed torso and staggered wearily to her feet.

Ruby frowned with determination as the hounds leapt towards her. They attacked on mass, coming at her from all sides. She spun around as she expertly fired a compilation of shots at the huge black beasts, until the Colt's ammunition was expelled and the floor around her was littered with the carcasses of Hell's canines.

Although Sam was still oblivious to the Hell Hounds' presence, he could see the disruption to the thick dusty coating over the floor where they had pounced, clawed and finally fallen.

Ruby paused and panted breathlessly, trying desperately to regain her composure. Her hands trembled uncontrollably as she shoved the Colt back into her waist band. She staggered slightly and grew deathly pale. She wouldn't hold out much longer as the duress of her injuries and the added encumbrances of holy ground hacked at her strength and energy. Then suddenly her knees buckled and she collapsed abruptly to the floor as the toxicity of the church and her wounds overcame her.

"Ruby?" Sam gasped, glaring helplessly at her, where she lay, halfway between them and the wide-open doors. "Ruby? You gotta get up… Ruby?" He was about to risk leaving the circle when Bobby grabbed his arm.

"No Sam… it's too dangerous." Bobby warned him, he was damned if he'd risk another Winchester to the Hound's savagery.

"Ruby!" Sam called to her as her eyes fluttered open and peered listlessly at him. He remained poised at the circle's edge ready to risk life and limb to save her.

She shook her head, ever so slightly, a slight smile of victory tugged at her mouth: She had Sam on side, finally. She forced herself up onto her hands. "Stay…" She whispered. "There's no more… for now. I gotta get outta here… just for a while." She explained, however she struggled to force herself to her feet.

"No, Ruby!" Sam begged. He found himself concerned for her welfare, surprisingly just as much, as for their own.

"Let her go." Bobby muttered. "It's the consecrated ground. I'm surprised she's lasted as long as she has."

Before Ruby could make it to her feet Bobby's torch faulted and began to flicker and, if it weren't for the moonlight streaming in through the gapping hole in the roof, they would have been thrust into complete darkness.

"Oh Shit!" Bobby complained as his torch extinguished altogether. It wasn't so much that they would be without light that concerned him; it was more so _why_ the torch had begun to fail in the first place.

Then, as the winds intensified again, swirling dead leaves and dust into eddying mini-tornadoes, a woman and a man, both tall and athletic, stepped cautiously through the doorway, passing through the break in the salt and goofer lines. They meandered around the devil's trap and glared at the battle-weary hunters. However the woman's gaze fixed solely on Ruby, as she still struggled to get to her feet, and hatred flooded her expression.

"Ruby! I should have known!" The redheaded woman hissed at Ruby as she stepped over the lifeless carcass of a hell hound. "We'd heard you were playing for the other side!"

"Sam?" Bobby muttered quietly as his dazed stupor cleared. "Sam, get the shotguns!" He motioned towards his huge duffle by Sam's side. It was the age-savvy hunter's selected arsenal.

Sam dragged Bobby's duffle to his side and ripped a shotgun from its depths, tossing the gun to Bobby and delving in again for another. Bobby aimed at the pair, and Sam leapt to his feet in kind.

"So... it's time for the wenches!" Ruby snarked. "Hounds down, Big Bad still to come?" Ruby staggered to her feet, the fight, and the church, having taken a significant toll on her strength and energy. However, she placed herself between both hunters and the demons. Neither hunter could get a clean shot at the demons without risking hitting Ruby as well.

The redhead strode directly up to Ruby and hurled a fist into her abdomen without obstruction. Ruby, still weary and ailing, crumpled with the blow and the woman proceeded to plant her boot into her. Ruby was sent sprawling across the floor. "You obviously sided with the _wrong_ side!" The redhead sniggered with triumph.

The brute of a man advanced, his muscular, exposed arms covered in heavy black tribal tattoos. He strode forward with imposing menace, towards Ruby, lethal thoughts clear on his face. Ruby remained prone on the floor, as she struggled to summon the will to battle on.

"Ruby!" Sam called to her as he fired upon the man, pelting him to the ground with rock salt, where he landed with a loud thump by the woman's side.

"Ruby!" Sam yelled again. "Ruby! Get up!" She was their only savior at the moment, however incapacitated she may have been. Without Ruby their hopes of surviving were minimal. And the demons were obviously pissed off. He was certain they would undoubtedly claim them all in retribution for the carnage of Hell Hounds, in their ultimate quest for Dean's soul.

"Battle's not over yet, Brenna!" Ruby snapped back, with confident triumph, as she huddled on the floor, concealing the Colt from their view as she desperately forced another bullet into the chamber. She staggered to her feet and stood tall, boldly prepared for a fight. "I got a little surprise for you…" She commented, as she swiftly fired at Brenna's dark haired companion as he struggled back to his feet. "I got a new toy! _Say hello to my little friend…"_

The shot hit Brenna's tattooed cohort, clean in the chest, and he staggered backwards with bewilderment. As Ruby shifted her aim towards Brenna, the demon swiftly cast her hand up in a swiping motion and hurled Ruby into the church wall by will alone.

"Ignatius!" Brenna bawled in horror, as the blessed silver bullet worked its mystical toxic magic on the demon. "No, no, NO! You bitch, you'll pay for that!" She screamed at Ruby. Iridescent veins glowed across Ignatius's face and neck and he convulsed where he stood, until he stood no longer. He crashed to the floor as his eyes blacked over, momentarily, and then all signs of life ceased.

Ruby didn't have the strength to fight her, but that 'Bitch' remark had to be paid for. She'd had enough of the derogatory name. If she could just summon the strength to release herself from Brenna's psychic grasp!

Brenna sank to Ignatius's side, where her hand tenderly caressed his forehead. His eyes stared blankly at the skies above through the yawning hole in the roof. And her rage and anger escalated.

Bobby fired at her, hoping to keep her incapacitated until Ruby could get herself back on her feet. The demoness staggered backwards with the impact, screaming in pain. When Bobby and Sam both fired again she was prepared. Her hand flew up and defected the shot with a whistling howl of wind. She glared at the hunters with anger. The redhead screamed like a banshee, then thrust her hands forward. There was a sudden crashing sound as she blasted the stained glass windows from their frames, showering them all with a blizzard of rainbow colored, glass shards.

Sam lunged over Dean, protecting him against the razor shower. Shards of glass ripped through his shirt, cutting into his back with a searing intensity. Bobby grunted by his side, suffering the same fate. Brenna's scathing retribution was mostly aimed at Ruby. She slumped against the wall, tucking her head beneath her arms as the shards were projected towards her. Slivers of colored glass slashed at her, stabbing into her cowering frame, others embedded themselves into the wall around her. More blood stained her shirt, and jeans as the splinters slashed into her flesh. Eventually the hail of glass ceased, and as the final shards fell to the ground they tinkled like a wind chime until all was quiet.

Ruby wiped blood from her freshly grazed cheek and glared back at Brenna, with loathing and vengeance. Then Ruby smiled with ominous delight as she repeated Brenna's tactic, hurling the redhead into the opposite wall. "Anyone else calls me _'bitch'_!" She muttered.

With her short triumph Ruby grappled to reload the Colt. However, her task was incomplete, interrupted as she was jerked from her feet and tossed to the opposite side of the church, and slammed into the baptismal font. The solid structure remained fast.

Sam freed his captive breath when the holy water remained within the basin. Not a drop spilled on their unlikely ally; however the rib-jarring jolt had incapacitated the demoness. She remained stunned and splayed on the ground.

Brenna strode swiftly towards her, pulling a dagger from her boot. Sam feared it was a dagger, just like Ruby's; a demon slaying dagger! Ruby's swift and gory, fatal demise seemed inevitable.

"Ruby!" Sam shouted again, as he leapt to her aid. He fired at the woman with rock salt, and caught her by surprise, too engrossed in executing Ruby to notice him, or care. As Brenna was pummeled backwards by the blast he tackled the redhead to the ground. With the demoness dazed, he scooped a large handful of the holy water from the baptismal font and splashed it over her. Brenna hissed and snarled at the caustic liquid burning her face and chest, cursing Sam. He rushed to Ruby's side, dragging her to her feet as he splashed more holy water over their foe.

Bobby was on his feet, casting a concerned gaze at Dean as he aimed his shotgun at the Crossroad Demon's minion. However Sam and Ruby were in too close a proximity for him to safely fire upon the redhead.

"Kill her!" Sam demanded of Ruby as she staggered to her feet.

Ruby glanced back in defeat. "It's empty!" She exclaimed as she held the Colt up.

Sam grabbed Ruby by the elbow and tried to force her back to their last remaining salvation; the salt and goofer dust circle in the middle of the church.

Recovering quickly, Brenna spun around and vaulted Sam across the altar floor and sent him crashing into the wall behind and then sent Ruby tumbling across the floor to his side. Ruby pulled herself up, and attempted to reload the Colt with as many bullets as she could.

Bobby managed a rushed shot at the demoness, however the blast was blown off track by a huge wind gust. The inhabitants of the church were all nearly blown to the ground as gale force winds swept through the church doors, eradicating what was left of the hunters' feeble salt lines at the threshold. The splintered shards of window and fractured slivers of roof thatching were swept up and blown to the rear of the church in a blustery gust of dust and glittering glass. Bobby's inner sanctum of goofer dust and salt was reduced to a bare minimum.

"Stop!" A deep gravelly voice boomed into the church. A hurricane of winds followed and nearly blew the thatched roof completely off the small church. And as intent as Ruby was on killing Brenna the sheer ferocity of the voice startled her into submission. Sam, Bobby and Ruby were all intimidated by the dark, imposing figure that stood in the doorway, with a posse of Hell Hounds by his side. Hounds that all, alarmingly, could see; Bobby feared they were all now at risk of the hounds, as only demons and those on their hit list could see them!

As the figure stepped forward several boards were ripped loudly from the floor by invisible means, annihilating the devil's trap drawn upon them. The tall, dark man entered the church, unencumbered by any of Bobby's precautions. Brenna retreated to join him by his side. He gave her a fleeting glance of disappointment as she crept behind him.

"Sammy!" Bobby urged with a hushed demand.

Sam responded by crawling back into the circle and checking its integrity. Sam glared at the imposing figure, as he struggled to repair their circle of salvation. Bobby aimed his shot gun at the demon. Ruby did the same with the Colt, having only managed to load a few bullets into the pistol.

Somehow they all knew: This was '_the'_ Crossroad Demon. The one who held possession over Dean's soul.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

**CHAPTER 4**

**Sorry again… should I have mentioned that there are numerous references up to and including 'Jus in Bello'? Don't think I've elaborated enough to really have spoiled too much, but might, just a little, in this chapter…**

**Foundations are laid, and things will really start to heat up… literally!**

St. Dominic's,

Dominion Springs, ARKANSAS

The Crossroad Demon laughed with amusement at the rag-tag group. They were hardly about to present any great resistance to his ultimate goal. There wasn't one among them that wasn't worse for wear! His hounds and his faithful underling, Ignatius, had given their lives to subdue the hunters to this point. However, the loss of his coveted pets and one, or more precisely, two, devoted minions was a price too high to pay, for the younger of the brothers had already taken his beloved Cassandra from him too. Not that the Winchester soul wasn't worth it, for that he would sacrifice many more, but the task should have been straight forward, had the interfering demon whore, Ruby, not meddled! However she would pay for her prying; she was a demon and he could do with her as he wished…

Snatching the souls of mankind, however, was ultimately at the hands of the beholder. Sin, wickedness and all kinds of debauchery was a surefire way of condemning one's soul to Hell. As was murder, rape, blah, blah, blah; the list really was endless! Hell was filled to the brim with their ranks! But their souls were hardly worth the brimstone it would take to burn away their fickle humanity. But a prized soul like the Winchester soul could only be obtained through a pact of some sort. Like the deal Dean brokered with his loyal emissary, Cassandra. She had acquired many prime souls during her centuries of faithful service, but obtaining the right to resurrect the likes of Sam Winchester was an honor, if not completely to his advantage. And securing the soul of Dean Winchester in payment was unbelievably miraculous!

In the Underworld, souls were currency, and where most were mere pocket change, Dean Winchester's soul was priceless! His soul was worth every effort and hazard of coming Top Side to collect. As was his father's for Azazel, although, with his untimely demise at the hands of Dean Winchester, Azazel hardly missed the loss there, when John Winchester was released from Hell in the same heart beat. And undeniably the younger brother, Sam's soul, would eventually be worth his weight...

But all good things come to those who wait… one priceless soul at a time. He had a different plan for what would become of Sam's soul. So it really was in his best interest to ensure Dean came to him willingly, for although, if Dean welched on his deal, he could seize Sam's life, as yet, he had no claim on his soul. And unbeknownst to either Winchester, especially Sam, should Dean renege on his contract, although Sam's life would be forfeit, both Winchester souls would be saved from the fiery pits of Hell!

So he really had no choice. He had come for Dean Winchester's soul, and he would make damned sure he was going to collect it!

He was as intimidating as he was ruthless. Tall enough to rival Sam in height, black as the proverbial ace of spades and built like a quarterback. He enjoyed the terror he could instill with a simple glare and a grin that was evilly maniacal. His eyes flickered like smoldering embers from beneath the brim of his hat and as he raised his hand the elements at his disposal leapt to attention. Instantly the winds resumed their bluster, slowly at first but noticeable gaining with momentum. He relished the stunned fear reflected in all their faces. Even his own feared him and Brenna cowered by his side, fearful of the unavoidable wrath she would face for her failure.

Dean stirred. He blinked groggily at the demon, as he forced himself up onto his elbow. As he glared at the demon he was certain that he'd seen the man before. "Lloyd's…" Dean muttered softly. "You were at Lloyd's." Sam placed his hand protectively on his shoulder, urging him to lie back down.

The Demon simply grinned at having been recognized.

Bobby gulped nervously, as he got up the balls to advance. He fired his rock salt filled shotgun at the Crossroad Demon. However the Demon simply waved his hand and the salt was sent shooting off in all directions bar towards him. The distraction opened up a brief window of opportunity that lasted but a split second, but was seized upon in half that time. The ensuing diversion allowed Ruby to fire the Colt at the Demon, almost instantaneously. Bending time and space, or so it would seem, the Demon arched back, deflecting the shot. He spun around angrily as he ducked her deadly aim. The bullet, aimed at where he should have had a heart, glanced instead off his shoulder and slammed straight into Brenna's skull, right between the eyes. The demoness had no warning, or inkling at what had happened. She convulsed and shuddered as her body hit the ground and veins of lightning streaked across her face. Eventually her body stilled and a single drop of deep red blood trickled from the hole in her skull. Her startled blue eyes gawped with shock, glaring lifeless into the shadows of the church.

The dark figure staggered backwards with dismay and awe. Rage and wrath boiled within him and as he recomposed himself he howled in anger and with, what Sam construed, was a hint of trepidation... The Colt had wounded him. Thick, almost black, blood oozed from the wound and splattered on the floor, hissing and bubbling as it hit the consecrated floorboards. His face snarled and grimaced as he momentarily glared at the hunters with dismay. If for only a moment, he was obviously worried. Sam suspected Ruby's plan may just have some solid merit.

If they could just get another shot in, they could kill him, however Ruby had only just had time to load another bullet...

With a low and ear shattering bellow that reverberated to their very bones, the Demon angrily swept Ruby off her feet and slammed her into the back wall. It was an equally swift retaliation, achieved with a simple flick of his wrist. She hit hard enough to smash the plasterboard, and probably shattered several bones. The Colt was sent flying from her grasp.

He was dark and imposing in every manner; from his near-black skin and his neatly cut, tailor-made, black, pinstriped suit, to his perfectly polished black patent leather shoes and leather gloves. He peered at the remaining trio of hunters with blazing eyes, from beneath his black fedora. He curled his lip in irritation. He had tired of their game of cat and mouse.

"Bow 'afore me, ya double-dealin' witch!" He demanded of Ruby as she struggled to raise herself off the floor. "Or I'll rip ya two-timin' deceitful soul from tha' skinny-assed body and grind ya into dust!"

"Not likely!" Ruby spat back defiantly from her crumpled position in the corner. "You have no power over my soul! It is _not_ yours!"

"Maybes not yet." He snarled in return. "Bu' it be a small task to be remedyin' that!"

"I doubt that… _Kalfu!_" She sneered. "All this bullshit… I knew it would be you."

"Shoulda placed a wager then!" He growled at the rebellious demoness, slamming her against the wall again.

"I put it… on saving… Dean's soul, instead!" Ruby rebuked breathlessly with unsubstantiated confidence.

"Then your wager is lost!" Kalfu laughed with amusement; they were like fish in a barrel, he could almost do as he wished with any one of them. "You forget _witch_, ain't no way's outta this deal. Ain't no welchin'!" He stated arrogantly, believing himself in total control. "It be the night for _one_ Winchester, or the _other_, to be dyin'!" His glance quickly flew over both Sam and Dean, only just protected by what remained of the salt and goofer dust circle. He was confident that wouldn't last much longer.

Bobby fired at the Demon again, only to have the blast avoided; Kalfu barely raised an eyebrow as the rock salt rebounded away.

"I'd be thinkin' about doin' that agin'!" Kalfu snapped at Bobby. "I've come for whats due me, an tha like ov you ain't gonna stop me! Which o' you boys's ready ta die?" Kalfu waved at his hounds and they stalked to the goofer dust's edge, glaring at the hunters in their faltering sanctuary.

"Well technically Dean hasn't _welched_." Ruby shot back with equal assurance. "So you can stop counting your chickens before they renege! Sam's not yours, and never will be!"

"Really? My pets came for him…" Kalfu rebutted as he pointed at Dean. "Only they's was slaughtered!"

"Dean was actually going to give himself up to your Hell Hounds." She smirked defiantly.

"Yeah… He was a _gonna_." Kalfu corrected angrily. "Tils ya meddled." He crushed her body harder against the wall with retaliation. She gulped nervously as fear flickered in her defiant glare.

"You never said… he couldn't try… to run!" She retorted acerbically, biting back the pain she obviously felt at his hands. "Bit hard… to put fine print… into a verbal contract… I suppose…"

Sam took it upon himself to try and stop the Demon once more. Ruby was hurting, Dean was dying, the Colt was out of reach, and another gust of wind would obliterate their tentative circle of protection altogether. He had to do something.

Sam blasted his shot gun at Kalfu twice, in quick succession. Kalfu laughed with supremacy as another flick of the wrist returned the rock salt back at the hunters with equal force, without ever coming close to reaching him. The ricocheting shots were sent back directly at the hunters. The force of the salt blasted Bobby side on, slamming him to the ground and winding him. As Sam turned to lunge over Dean, in a futile attempt to protect his brother, the force of the shot caught him square in the chest like a sledge hammer and he was slammed to the ground, temporarily knocked unconsciousness. Dean hissed with agony, when unable to protect himself, he was subjected to the salt's scathing attack as it ripped into his already battered body.

"This be runnin', be it? Ain't nothin' so 'zilaratin' as the hunt." Kalfu snarled angrily. "But this," he swept his hand over Dean's prone body, slumped by Sam's unconscious side where they cowered on the floor in the middle of the goofer dust circle, "this looks to me like he's tryin' to weasel hisself outta his deal!"

Dean clutched at Sam's sleeve, as lay splayed beside him. "Sammy…" He whispered, desperate to ensure his brother was ok and thankful when Sam groaned wearily.

"Technically, no he's not." Ruby rebuked defiantly. Her confident rebuttals empowered her. She relished that she could wield such power over the likes of a demon such as Kalfu. "Your dogs worked him over pretty good. We put him there, he had no idea what was going on. He was unconscious and therefore unable to make his own decisions, ergo, not welching!" Ruby smirked with self-assurance.

"Hmmm…. Playin' the words now? Bit of advocating is it?" He demanded; trepidation glimmered in his expression again. "And my pets?" Kalfu frowned as he examined the carnage of his Hell Hounds, collapsed around him on the floor.He knelt by the carcass of one huge beast and affectionately stroked its bloodied pelt. He glared at her with a defiant challenge in his fiery eyes as his hand also motioned towards Brenna and Ignatius. "And slaying my poor emissaries… Ain't that welchin'?"

Kalfu glanced at the pitiful hunters. They hardly seemed worth the effort. Bobby still struggled to get his breath back, Sam lay prone on the floor, groggily trying to regain consciousness. And his prize was allowing a two-bit scraggy-assed demoness do his fighting for him. She was like a wild cat, impressive as it was, she was a major thorn in his side at the moment and she would soon pay…

Dean glared back defiantly, despite the odds, green eyes blazing with rebellious conviction; his hand still laid, in vain hopes of protection, upon Sam's arm.

Kalfu smiled contently; perhaps Dean Winchester's soul _was_ worth the effort. He had to give the kid credit for trying…

"He hasn't killed a one_._" Ruby hissed back at him with a condescending smirk, almost with a death wish of her own. "_I did, every last one of them_! Every stinkin', flea bitten, mongrel, but, the one I savor the most is your trashy, little whore-wench Brenna! Can't condemn him for my actions, can you Kalfu? I mean your word is your bond, isn't it?"

"True, _I _stands by my contract, Ima wondrin' if he'll be standin' by his? An' I gots ta correct ya… he tried to put my faithful lil' pets down." Kalfu frowned, his irritation welling as he slammed her back into the wall.

"What, with… a simple gun?" Ruby rebuked, uncomfortably. "Even Dean… knows… that's about as effective… as a Be Be gun! No grounds… for welching!" Ruby knew it wasn't just Dean's life she was fighting for; it was both of the Winchesters.

"Can't see it's a gonna do him no good..." Kalfu muttered, seemingly affronted, deep in thought. "I think you're a fightin' for naught. With all tha' blood he's a loosin', looks ta me likes he's a dead man alreadys."

"Maybe…" Ruby struggled to maintain a composed expression, although gulped nervously to herself as she sucked in a lungful of confidence, tentatively hedging towards the Colt. She'd unbalanced him, she realized, and now he was quickly trying to make up lost ground. "But if that were the case, then why are _you_ here?" She demanded boldly. "Are you maybe just a little worried that if your dogs don't drag him down into the depths of Hell themselves you'll miss out on his soul?" Ruby glared at him, relishing her tentative advantage. "Cause you've no grounds to take Sam!"

'_Could she possibly know?'_Kalfu wondered. He proceeded cautiously, fearful now that she may either wittingly, or unwittingly weasel Dean's soul out from under him.

Sam wearily raised himself up off the floor, teetering groggily until Bobby steadied him.

"With all he's a done, in his life, what makes ya think, he's goin' anywhere buts to Hell, witch?" Kalfu smiled audaciously.

Both Bobby and Sam glanced at Dean as he visibly flinched at the accusation. Wasn't as if any of them hadn't ever speculated where their ever after would take them. Fighting for the greater good and all, one would hope Upstairs… however, with the number of innocent lives dying in the cross fire… the rules on that one were hazy.

Ruby glared back at Kalfu with rebellious venom in her eyes. "No, he won't" She replied emphatically, chancing a glance at Dean, who gazed wearily back at her. "His intentions have always been… honorable!"

Dean's brows arched in amazement: even though it seemed to set her tongue alight to say it, he'd hardly picked Ruby as a fan.

Kalfu laughed with a maniacal grin plastered to his face. His white teeth glimmered in the half dark, in stark contrast to the rich umber of his skin as he casually lit a cigarette and sucked back a deep lungful of the invigorating fumes. His casual demeanor only served to heighten the hunters' anxiety. Kalfu seemed to be enjoying the challenge of claiming Dean's soul, and far too nonchalantly.

He had everything under complete control, and now he was simply toying with them until the inevitable came…

"No… He's always been selfish, witch!" He snapped back with renewed confidence. He sat himself down on the back pew, stretching his long legs out in front of him as he lounged back on the seat. He glared at Dean as he made his accusations, rolling the cigarette between his fingers. "What he's done, he's done to appease hisself. First he hadda have Daddy's 'pproval so bad he done whatever the fool man asked. And the fool wanted his youngest, most precious boy safe." Kalfu paused and inhaled deeply from his cigarette. "An' when Daddy done sold his soul for him, Dean here was sooo lost; he hads ta justify his lonely, pathetic 'xistence with nuffin' more an' his Samuel." He exhaled the thick wafting fumes, however even as he continued to speak, tendrils of smoke were expelled with every breath. "Thought that ifs he made protectin' his dear, dear brotha, his only 'ntention he'd have some kinda 'mportance, some reason to be livin' at all. He ain't no hero; he's a contemptible, scared an' lonely 'xcuse for humanity. He don't care 'bout anyone he's saved, wouldn't care if'n they died! An's plenty he done killed 'longs tha way! He's a killin' machine, an' it don't concern 'im who has to die, so long as he can protect his dear Samuel! Couldn't help hisself really, under Samuel's spells he was. Both were; Daddy an' Dean! So you see, all this was 'nevitable… if Samuel's gone, Dean's life ain't worth livin'!" Kalfu laughed with glee exhaling small rings of smoke.

Dean grimaced at the cutting intensity of his words, but unable to dispute them. As far as Dean was concerned Kalfu was pretty much spot on. Kalfu's Cheshire grim broadened as he watched Dean squirm under his scathing truths. It wouldn't be long now, before he would collect on his deal. And then he could set about luring Sam into a deal of sorts as well. It was obviously the Winchester way…

"No." Sam rebuked his claims as he struggled to sit up without the church spinning around him. "He cares! He fights for the innocent, even at his own expense."

"Feelin' tha guilt Samuel?" Kalfu sniggered. "For whats ya made 'im do?"

"Sam's right. He does care!" Ruby interrupted. "I know, I've seen him, willing to fight to the death for an innocent." She glared at Dean. Only this time, more so with a hint of loathing, than admiration; obviously not a fan after all.

For all the repulsion she had for the hunter, and his pathetic fight for lost causes, she did, begrudgingly admire him for his unwavering beliefs. He truly did believe he was fighting for the greater good. Unfortunately he actually thought he could beat the evil that roamed the earth, thought he could make a difference. And she knew Dean was prepared to go down fighting, just to save the life of one solitary innocent, even a virgin, no less!

She'd offered him a viable alternative, to take out the entire demon swarm in one foul swoop… '_But, no, he couldn't let the Virgin's heart be hacked out! Don't worry that I'd have to sacrifice myself as well!' _Ruby sneered to herself. '_He'd better appreciate my efforts this time_!'

Why he'd ever want to save a prissy, little Miss Goody-Two-Shoes, Ruby had no idea! Not when her sacrifice could have saved the greater number. _And even though, in the end, it ended up costing more lives_… Ruby bit her lip as she suppressed that thought. When would the brothers ever learn to listen to her? Then again, in all honesty, it was only that Lilith had found Hendrickson and the others, or Dean's plan would _probably_ have worked…

Kalfu laughed mockingly.

"But jus' who was he _really_ tryin' to protect?" Kalfu taunted. He seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. "In the ends it woulda been Samuel!" He added with a smile.

Dean knew Kalfu had hit home again. Lilith had only wanted Sam. He could have sacrificed Sam and saved them all, however that thought never, ever, even entered his mind. Even if it had he would never have considered it an option. Because Kalfu was right, without Sam, life wasn't worth living.

Dean sighed, he wasn't sure what ached more; his injuries or Kalfu's brutal perspective on his life's truths. As he glanced at Sam, he could see in his eyes that Sam was soaking up every last accusation, every last truth. Dean hadn't the strength to dispute them, couldn't even if he wanted to, because Sam could always see through his bull shit!

"But then, Samuel has always been meant for much, much bigga things. Haven't you _Samuel_?" Kalfu continued, having grasped their attentions hook, line and sinker.

Sam glared back at Kalfu, intrigued by his new approach.

"Dean's long outliveds his time as protector; you's so much stronga 'an he is now." Kalfu declared. "He was a jus' a passin' interruption, tills ya reached your full potential. Now all he's is, is ya one last blemish. Ya last, useless shred o' mankin', a mere shado' ofs ya humanity! An' tha ones thin' holdin' ya back. Dean ainst ya protector no more, Samuel, he's ya jailer! You shoulds just… _let_… _me_… '_ave him_, so yous can gets on with 'filling ya true destiny."

Dean's gaze suggested he was soaking up Kalfu's allegations, just as quickly as Sam had. And it filled Dean with a sudden anguish to realize maybe Sam didn't need him anymore…

"Dean is my destiny!" Sam snapped back defensively, sensing Dean's despair at Kalfu's allegations.

Kalfu laughed again. "Well then, it'll be a shorts one! But I doubts it, Samuel. Not for'n the likes of _your_ kind!" He charged. "I find it 'musing that ya grasp so dearly at whats little humanity ya is so u'fortunately tainted with. Once Dean is gone ya wills swiftly feel as'n the burden of ya human weakness are burned away. It'll leaves ya pure an' powerful."

Bobby and Sam both glared at Kalfu, speculating upon just what he was inferring to. Dean wearily raised his hand to clasp Sam's in a show of unconditional support.

"And just what is my kind?" Sam demanded apprehensively.

Kalfu was greatly pleased at the new found clout his knowledge gave him. He paused purposefully as he relished his cigarette, no more than a small stub. As the demon inhaled the stub glowed like the smoldering embers in his eyes. He was calculating just how much he should reveal, and the sweet taste of the taunt was invigorating.

In the dark corner of the church, with Kalfu temporarily distracted by his banter with Sam, Ruby cautiously hedged her way towards the Colt, still lying some feet away from her.

"No, Samuel." Kalfu eventually retorted. "If Mommy never done told you… oh that's right, Azazel kinda killed her, didn't he, before she ever could…" Kalfu laughed with sinister glee. "I'm guessin' Azazel wanted ya, and all ya kind, all to hisself. Guess he didn't quite count on Daddy Winchester gettin' all agitated an' turnin' hunter on him. And Dean here, damned if your Daddy didn't create hisself one _hell_ of a fightin' machine; Azazel sure didn't see th'un comin'! But not for much longer though… Even John didn't knows ya power, did he Samuel? Poo' confused Dean here, didn't stands a chance! I'm bettin', Samuel, ya darned fool brother is so committed to ya he'd sell his soul a dozen times ova if'n he hadta. That's _your_ doin' Samuel, that's ya 'nfluence on him. Ya power! You gots him so wound up in ya, he can't stomach to breathe withouts ya! You used him Samuel, and ya didn't even knows it! That's what ya power can do, has its own agenda its does!"

"Just shut up!" Sam snapped at him angrily, clutching at his shotgun with forced restraint, his finger teasing the trigger. "You don't know squat about us!"

"I'm guessing I know a _hell_ of a lots more 'an you do _Samuel_." Kalfu taunted.

Sam fired at him angrily. Kalfu deflected the rock salt blast without even raising an eyebrow. He barely raised his hand, simply waved his finger slightly and the winds returned, blowing the salt from its path. He laughed with amusement.

"I know you're not getting my brother's soul!" Sam snapped back at Kalfu desperately, firing again.

Kalfu deflected the blast with almost monotonous ease. "I gets what's due me, Boy! An' payment's long ova due!" Kalfu snarled, irritated by Sam's defiance. "It's time for what's owed to me!"

Bobby also blasted at Kalfu with rock salt, fear and trepidation was mounting within him. He was growing increasingly nervous. Kalfu glared at him with growing irritation as he deflected the shot once more.

With his concentration upon the hunters, Ruby lunged at the Colt; however Kalfu ceased her last bid attempt at retrieving the pistol by hurling her at the feet of his hounds. They set upon her, drowning her in a savage sea of black, as the Colt skidded across the floor, far out of Sam's reach from within their circle of protection.

Ruby fought her way to her feet, and in a desperate attempt to save herself she lunged towards the doors, the hounds at her heels. Kalfu's pets had no reservations in savaging the demoness and she was sent sprawling through the doorway.

"Enough! I'm tirin' o' these games!" Kalfu snorted. "Ya childish 'tempts to keep me from takin' what's mine ain't gonna work!" Kalfu raised his hands to waist height, fingers spread wide. Then he lowered his head and glared at the hunters through vehement eyes, glazed over like the fires of Hell.

What began as a gust of wind, escalated to a tempest. As the winds intensified and howled through the church, glass, timber splinters and dust pelted them relentlessly until Bobby's carefully laid circle was all but swept away in the turbulent gusts of wind. The hounds stalked forward eagerly…

Bobby and Sam shot at the beasts in desperation, fighting not just for Dean's life and soul, but their own. The rock salt glanced off their pelts like water off a duck's back, although, they snarled and growled angrily in retaliation. However, true to his word, Kalfu's hounds only sought out Dean, glaring menacingly at Sam and Bobby, however not attempting to advance upon them. It was Dean they glared at with intensely focused eyes of fire.

"Your wasted 'tempts to stop me claimin' my contract's damned stupid. You cann' stop me. Did ya really thinks ya could stop me wiv all dis hocus-pocus?" Kalfu waved his hand again and more of their protective circle eroded with the ensuing wind.

Then Kalfu turned his attentions solely on Bobby and Sam. The winds intensified, and with their circle broken both hunters found themselves at Kalfu's mercy. His hands snapped to either side and he laughed with victory. He tossed them in different directions, smashing them into opposite walls of the church and pinning them there with nothing more than an upturned hand.

Dean lay crumpled on the floor in what remained of Bobby's goofer dust circle. It was most certainly breached in more places than one. In his weakened, groggy state, Dean didn't stand a chance. Although, the hounds didn't advance.

"I guess you just gotta decide, Dean. Who's walkin' outta here? I wills be collectin' on my contract, or penalize ya for lack of payment!" Kalfu demanded. "Whose shall it be, Dean? It's ya decision. With whose life will you make payment? Your's or Samuel's?" To validate his point, Kalfu clenched the fist that he held in Sam's direction. Sam began to gag and gasp for strangled breath, his hands grappling with unseen hands about his throat.

Kalfu wanted to make a final point to all concerned. He would take what was owed to him, and he'd make the notorious, defiant Dean Winchester _beg_ him to take him. He'd break him before he ripped his soul out…

Dean pulled himself up onto his knees. And as Sam and Bobby gazed in horror, from where they were pinned to the wall, Dean staggered to his feet. With painful effort he forced his lacerated leg to hold his weight, and he hobbled forward, with precise, determined steps. Fresh blood oozed through his bandages, and every footfall elicited a grimace of pain. He clutched his arms tightly against his chest, easing the pain from his shoulder, the other from his forearm. He staggered perilously, barely keeping himself upright, however he pushed himself to continue, until he stepped over and out of the goofer dust circle. Weary and lethargic, Dean teetered and swayed precariously, however he forced himself to stand proud, mere meters from Kalfu.

"Now…" Kalfu demanded. The sheer taunting was worth the wait for this soul. "Tell's me who?"

Dean gulped back nervously, glancing at Sam's struggling form, pinned to the wall by invisible means. By a force that was slowly choking the life out of him. "Me!" He hissed with defeat.

Kalfu nodded with acknowledgement, smirking with triumph as he allowed Sam and Bobby to drop to the floor. The hunters staggered cautiously to their feet.

"Dean, NO!" Sam pleaded, gasping for breath. He couldn't bear to see Dean sacrifice himself, not after their efforts to save him. "Please don't…" The Colt lay just a few feet away, close enough Sam could almost will it into his grasp…

Then Bedlam ignited. Tempestuous winds ripped through the church, and literally tore it apart. The force of the gale lifted both Sam and Bobby off their feet and thrust them back to the floor, and pinned them there. The roof was completely blasted off the church, and two of the four walls disintegrated like a house of cards. Then the earth beneath them began to quake and shudder, the floorboards undulated in a sea of waves until the church itself ruptured in two. The floorboards through the center of the church exploded outwards, showering them in a hail of splintered timber. The floor joists were laid bear like the ribs on a skeleton, as the ground below ruptured. Only Dean and Kalfu were encircled by the only remaining stable ground, apparently unaffected by the demon's destruction, whilst Sam and Bobby were tossed about like kids on surf boards. The separate halves of the quaking building divided as the earth below parted to reveal a gapping fissure that continued to expand in depth and width. The earth groaned and rumbled as the gapping maw obstinately pulled apart. An intense orange light erupted from the abyss, accompanied by an overwhelming heat, as if they stood upon the precipice of a volcano. The fires of Hell leapt up from the chasm.

Dean cast a final glimpse towards Sam before clenching his eyes closed in fear to await his final demise. He swayed precariously as he waited, almost welcoming an end. Heat and a scarlet luminance cloaked him, as searing winds swirled up from the fissure. A misty orange haze encircled him, with tendrils of searing wisps greedily whipping at his body.

Kalfu leaned over and patted his favorite hound on the head. He leaned to whisper in the dog's ear then sent it on its mission. It leapt towards Dean and pounced upon his chest, its savage claws gouging themselves into Dean's already lacerated shoulder. The momentum of the hound's lunge hurled them both into the fiery crevice.

"NOOOO!" Sam screamed in horror, and with a miraculous, magnetic draw the Colt leapt up from the floor and flew into his hand. Without considering the rationale Sam squeezed the trigger as he aimed the pistol towards Kalfu. The shot hit the demon in the upper thigh and downed him instantly. Kalfu wailed in both pain and awe, glaring with bewilderment at Sam with blazing eyes. Kalfu's body trembled until it was wracked with violent convulsions. His face twisted and contorted as electrifying pulses erupted from his mouth. His face slowly burned away, the fires in his eyes consuming his flesh in a slow cremation of his entire body. Kalfu shrieked with an ear-shattering wail as thick, black ichors spewed from his mouth. The smoke hovered hesitantly above them, blacking out the moon's feeble glow, then with an unearthly shriek the cloud was sucked, like a vacuum, back into the depths of Hell.

At the same instance the winds ceased and the hounds vanished, in growling agony, in a similar hazy miasma of smoke; sucked back into Hell with their master.

Sam collapsed to his knees in despair; Kalfu's demise was mere seconds too late. Sam's breaths came in short gasps, hyperventilating in shock and horror as the Colt tumbled from his grasp. Bobby gazed back at him with equal dismay from the other side of the fiery abyss.

Their last bid attempt to save Dean had failed and there were no more second chances.

Dean had been cast into the fiery pit of Hell.

TBC.

**Not quite finished, so I hope you'll hang in there for the last chapter. I promise things will get **_**interesting!**_

**Chrissymi. **

**P.S. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews. (All Good too??) It really does make writing worth all the late-night effort!**


	5. Chapter 5

Sam crept towards the edge of the fissure

**CHAPTER 5**

_**The Precipice of Hell.**_

_**St. Dominic's,**_

_**Dominion Springs, ARKANSAS**_

Sam crept towards the edge of the fissure. He had to see where Dean's everlasting existence had ultimately been condemned. He dropped down the four feet from the remaining floorboards and crawled across the scarred dirt, to the very edge of the infernal precipice. He forced himself to peer over the blazing brim of the chasm, into the fires of Hell. The infernal gorge seemed infinite, the blaze from below distorting distance and, as Sam peered down, time. Time froze, and nothing but Hell itself seemed to exist in that endless moment.

The heat alone was unbearable, and the sulfuric gases that rose forced a violent coughing fit from the awe struck hunter. Tears streamed down Sam's cheeks and despite the heat he trembled with overwhelming emotions. Howls of pain and despair rose from Hell's fiery depths. And as Sam peered into the blazing inferno he could almost make out innumerable souls clawing their way up towards the surface. He pushed back from the edge as his knees buckled with devastating hopelessness and he collapsed to the ground.

Life as he knew it had ended. In that instant Sam knew exactly why Dean had sold himself to a demon, he would too, if he could have his brother resurrected… If he hadn't just killed the only demon he knew could perform such a feat!

Sam felt like he had died too, that in that same instant his soul had been ripped from his body as Dean plunged to his ultimate death into Hell. There was nothing now, inside him, he was merely an empty shell, an abyss of empty oblivion, almost as infinite as Hell itself.

Bobby shook his head in anguish as he hedged his way around the gapping fissure, shielding his face from the intense heat as he made his way to Sam's side. Screams of pain and agony, of despair and hopelessness, echoed up from the abyss. And something more sinister; wails of victory and triumph, of the demons presented with another escape from Hell.

"We have to close it somehow Sam… it's another damned Devil's Gate!" Bobby urged, reaching for his duffle and his leather-bound compendium of rites and rituals. "I'm sure there's something in here…" he prattled desperately. He'd managed to switch off his immediate devastation at watching Dean, the boy he would gladly have called his own, sacrifice himself into the eternal damnation of Hell! He had to, or he'd collapse into a blubbering, sobbing heap...

"No Bobby… Maybe Dean can…" Sam stammered. Despite the tears, his face was devoid of emotion as his mind contemplated every last miniscule possibility of hope. The enormity of the situation hadn't quite settled. It was simply inconceivable that Dean; his big brother, his protector and his invincible Hero could be dead…

"No Sam, he's gone, we can't risk it." Bobby declared as he flicked through his notes. His voice was hoarse, choked up with stifled dread and loss, and his hands trembled as he clutched at his journal.

"He's really gone?" Sam muttered with defeat, his eyes fixed on the raging inferno. It would take a long time before he could accept that Dean was gone, forever.

"I'm sorry Sam, we tried. But we gotta do this, before we let out another army of demons…" Bobby pushed his emotions aside as he contemplated the horrendous crisis before them. Unlike Samuel Colt's Devil's Gate, this one didn't come with a door. "Dean really will claw his way out to whip our asses if we let loose another swarm of demons!"

"He could, Bobby… Dad did." Sam eyed Bobby with desperation. As much as Bobby would like to hope it could be possible, it was simply too risky. Enough demons had been unleashed on the world, far too many for the handful of hunters that currently struggled to exterminate them. Any more would hand them a guaranteed victory over mankind.

"It's too big a risk. Even if Dean could climb back out, where's he gonna go? His mortal body is down there somewhere… Let me do this. You know this is what Dean would want. I promise, if there's a way to release his soul from Hell, I'll find it. But right now we gotta close the gateway. Please, Sam, stand back." Bobby urged as he found the ritual he had searched for. He began to chant in Latin.

The earth began to shudder, and what commenced with a slight tremor quickly grew to a discernable quake. Sam watched as the fissure creaked and groaned as it tenaciously inched closed. The howls from below intensified as the souls realized their escape was closing in upon them. Sam watched the damned remnants of humanity scream and howl with rage and frustration as they clawed their way up the rocky abyss façade, their bodies scarred and burned, like cremated corpses. The longer he stared into the fiery pit, the more souls he spied. Some creatures were not even remotely human any longer. He could see them, scaling the rocky walls in their desperate attempt to escape. The crags were littered with the deformed and perverted souls of the desperate and the damned fraught with frantic hopes of escape. They clawed and climbed over each other, ripping one after another from the cliff face in their desperation.

As Sam peered into the abyss, gazing incoherently at the struggle of the damned he suddenly frowned in contemplation.

"Dean!" Sam pounced to the fissure's edge and almost threw himself over. Bobby had to lunge at him to stop him from throwing himself in after his brother. "No… Dean!"

"Shit, Sam!" Bobby urged, struggling to stop Sam's frantic attempts to plunge into Hell after Dean.

"Bobby, Dean!" Sam screamed at the older hunter in desperation. "Please you have to stop it closing!"

"No Sam, you gotta let him go!" Bobby grabbed Sam by his jacket and shook him, to make him accept the full reality of the situation: Dean was gone, and he was never coming back!

"NO! Bobby, it's Dean!" Sam pleaded, trying to pry himself from Bobby's hold.

"LET HIM GO!" Bobby screamed desperately, willing Sam to let him go, as much for Sam's sake as for his own.

"No, Bobby, I can SEE Dean!" Sam yelled back. He broke free of Bobby's grasp as he pointed into the depths of the chasm.

"What?" Bobby demanded with hesitant hope.

"It's Dean!" Sam yelled again, pointing to a point some ten meters down.

"Damned, Son-of-a-bitch!" Bobby shouted in dismay.

He really was there. Dean lay precariously on a miniscule excuse for a ledge. He lay lifelessly, both legs and his right arm hung dangerously over the edge. The abyss walls shook and trembled, as the gapping crags closed, and Dean's limbs dangled like a rag doll: He was at serious threat of plummeting over.

"Stop it closing Bobby… we gotta get him out!" Sam begged desperately; on the verge of scaling down the precipice bare handed.

"Sammy, wait!" Bobby urged, halting his determined descent. "You can't… I can't… I can't stop it Sam. I'm not even sure _I_ got it to close…" He certainly hadn't gotten more than a few lines into the ritual.

"I can get to him!" Sam stared at Bobby, wide eyed and hope-deluded.

"No Sam, you can't…" Bobby began to explain.

"I'm not leaving him!" Sam snapped back instantly. "And you can't stop me!"

"No, not like this Sam. I got rope, in the pickup!" Bobby clarified. "You can't carry him back up bare handed!"

Sam nodded, seeing reason. Bobby sprinted, like Sam had never seen the old coot move before, out to his truck.

"Dean!" Sam called to his brother. However, the elder Winchester lay lifelessly, oblivious to Sam's pleas. Sam could only watch anxiously as the fissure slowly groaned closed; shaking the small ledge that Dean lay upon. "DEAN! Please…"

As he waited Sam examined the route down to Dean. The rock face was rough and splintered where it had fractured apart. However lower down, as the heat intensified the rock face looked melted, it was smooth and glassy black. It was perhaps the only factor preventing the desperate souls below from clawing their way up. Sam wasn't entirely sure it would halt the escape of full-fledged demons though, not when they could vaporize themselves into pure smoke. Bobby was right, the fissure had to be closed. And it _was_ closing, if only slowly. But if they didn't get Dean out soon, there would be no getting him out at all. Sam wasn't even sure if Dean was even still alive: Could he have survived having fallen so far? Could he survive being plunged into Hell itself, be it only just? How much longer could he survive his horrific injuries? And how much longer could Bobby possibly take with the rope?

Sam scanned what remained of the church for the hunter. As Bobby jogged back towards Sam, the younger Winchester couldn't help but sprint to his side. "The Baptism Font!" Sam ordered. Despite Kalfu's destruction the font remained intact, defiant to the end of all attempts to destroy it. Sam looped the rope around the smooth marble base and tugged at the cord, ensuring the improvised pulley would hold his weight without faulting. The beautifully turned stone font remained steadfast.

"I can lower myself down, and then I'll harness him in, and hoist him back up. Then can you grab him, pull him up and over?" Sam instructed.

Bobby nodded enthusiastically. "You betcha!" He grinned, still dumbfounded by Dean's incredible luck.

Sam lashed the rope around himself, in crude a harness, then without thought or doubt he scaled over the precipice and abseiled down into Hell. Even as he descended he could feel the searing heat biting at his flesh. It felt as if his skin was blistering and flaying off in sheets. Sweat streamed down his brow and ran, like rivers, into his eyes where it battled with the sulfuric smoke, to blind him with tears. The rope ate into his hands, shredding layers of skin off his palms. The rock face grew increasingly glassier and his feet slipped away from beneath him, smashing him into the rocky crag over and over again. However Sam was oblivious to it all, his pain blinded by his mission; to save Dean.

As the abyss groaned and grated, steadily narrowing, Sam's task became precariously desperate. The fissure would soon close completely, crushing both Winchesters to death between its rocky faces, if it's staggered, volatile jolting and shaking didn't toss them into its fiery depths first. Sam was no more than half way.

As his foothold faltered upon the crag, Sam swung out, dangerously close to loosing his grip as well. Bobby felt his heart leap into his throat, where it threatened to either choke him to death or cease to pulse at all.

"Sam!" He called desperately. "Sam, take it easy, move to your right more!" Sam was over shooting Dean's position with his current path of descent.

Weather Sam heard him or not over the desperate howling of the souls below, or the loud crackle of the fires themselves Bobby could not be sure, however Sam adjusted his climb and continued down the crag.

Bobby's heart faltered once more when a violent jolt rocked the earth, with Richter proportions. Sam lost his grip momentarily, and as the rope slid through his hands he plummeted several meters before he found a firm grasp upon the cord once more. He came to a jarring halt that near ripped his arm from his socket.

Sam paused and reassessed his planned path. Closer inspection of Dean's location revealed that the ledge was beginning to crumble. Dean had slid closer to the edge, and his legs dangled over the side with loosing equilibrium. Another similar quake would probably toss him over altogether. Sam's descent hastened to reckless control. His feet scarcely touched the near smooth rock face as he abseiled to Dean's rescue.

As he approached the ledge, mere seconds from finding his own foot hold, the chasm shuddered once more. Dean's weight shifted and he began to slide over the edge, the weight of his dangling limbs over balancing him entirely.

"DEAN!" Sam screamed as he relinquished his hold upon the rope and dropped the remaining meter to the ledge, his feet precariously planting themselves between Dean's thighs, and temporarily halting his slide. Sam had to lash the rope around his wrist to prevent sliding off with Dean's gaining momentum. The ledge was equally smooth and glassy, and Sam's shoes struggled to lay purchase on the slippery surface. However sheer luck had Dean's slide cease, Sam's feet wedged between his loins in a position he hoped they would soon laugh about.

Sam carefully knelt down, acutely aware that he stood mere inches from plummeting straight into Hell. He was pretty sure this way was a direct route; do not pass Go, or Judgment, or Purgatory or any other hopes of redemption. _'Abandon Hope, all ye who enter… or fall!'_

Dean lay deathly still and inert. Sam was at a loss at to weather he even lived or not. He was too unbalanced to reach across to check for a pulse at his neck. Even Dean's securely bandaged arm dangled out of his reach. Sam imagined he could see Dean's chest slowly rise and fall, hoped it was so, hoped that his brother was breathing… Blood seemed to dribble from his mouth and from a brutal gash across his brow, and Sam prayed it indicated his heart still pumped vital blood through his ravaged body…

Without relinquishing his only hold on the rope, Sam had to somehow secure the length of rope around Dean. With the fissure's slow closure, the quaking was intensifying, and Sam's precarious stand on the ledge was harassed in jolting waves. Dean's weigh was pressing harder against his ankles and he knew their time was hastily expiring.

Sam grasped the rope with one hand, wrapping the cord around his wrist several times to secure his only life line. Then with care he wedged his foot against Dean's groin, silently apologizing to his brother for his rather improper contact. Sam eased himself into a semi-stable position, securing his weight by standing precariously over his brother. Then he loosened the rope from around his wrist, leaving himself without life line or net should he be dislodged by another quake.

"Ok Dean…" Sam muttered as he slowly knelt down, careful not to allow himself to overbalance, or let his feet slip out from beneath him. "I could really use your help here buddy…" Sam ventured a tentative nudge against Dean's upper thigh, weary of startling his brother incase he overbalanced them both. "Dean, come on, open your eyes for me."

As Sam leaned forward to try and raise his brother's torso up, the chasm shook again, and his left foot slid out from under him. Sam lurched forward, grasping desperately to the end of the rope as his weight fell upon Dean.

"SAM!" Bobby shrieked from above, in the midst of what he was sure was coronary failure. "Sam…"

Dean's eye's snapped open and he arched back in dismay. He gasped with a frantic lungful of air, as if all this time he hadn't taken breath. He coughed, as the acerbic sulfuric gases filled his lungs and flinched beneath Sam's weight. Instinctively his arms flew up to shove the unexpected burden from his chest. And the brothers began to slide towards the edge.

"Dean! Ohh Shit… NO!" Sam pleaded, his grasp on the rope tightened as he thrust his other hand under Dean's arm in a desperate bid to halt their fall. His fingers dug into the searing, glassy ledge, clinging desperately to halt their gradual slide. Dean's arms flailed about in a panic, clutching desperately to Sam's waist as their weight shifted to the very rim of the ledge. Sam clung with all his strength to the rope, pulling himself off his brother's distraught body. Then he thrust his mass towards the crag face until their shift halted. Dean sat at the periphery of the ledge, both legs dangling over. Sam forgave him his tight grip around his ass. Sam had procured a desperate foothold beside Dean, his weight balanced by his unyielding grip on the rope. He was still suspended by the rope, more than balanced on his feet as he dangled like a hovering giraffe over his terrified brother. As he shifted back to a standing position, Dean slid forward slightly and his grip tightened.

"Dean…" Sam urged, stifling his overwhelming joy at his brother's survival… thus far.

"Samu…" Dean muttered briefly, until he was wracked by a coughing fit.

"Yeah… Dean." Sam smiled. "You're gonna be ok… only we gotta get outta here. Dean, man, can you ease yourself back?"

Dean nodded and slowly his grasp around Sam loosened and he inched backwards on his haunches, until he sat securely on the ledge. He rested his back against the cliff face and peered over the side, down into the depths of Hell. His shocked lungs incited another coughing fit.

"Where?" He gasped, his throat still gravelly as his lungs filled with the suffocating fumes of Hell. "Where the hell are we?"

"Yeah, pretty much… Hell." Sam smirked in trademark Winchester 'situation normal' fashion.

"Hell? What? What happened?" Dean rasped hoarsely. "How…"

"I'll explain later." Sam suggested, bending cautiously down to Dean's side. "Let's grab a beer once we're out, hey?"

Dean's gaze scanned the formidable wall opposite. The chasm had closed enough he could almost reach out and touch it. His gaze inched up the seemingly infinite meters to the top, where Bobby's anxious face peered back with unbridled apprehension.

"Who's up there?" Dean muttered.

"What?" Sam muttered as he tried to lift Dean's lethargic torso up. He glanced upwards at Bobby's unmistakable face peering back. The seasoned hunter was even wearing his trademark baseball cap and flack jacket. The fires of Hell had brilliant illuminating qualities. "Dean, its Bobby! Dean are you o…."

Sam's concern sprang up a notch; however it was quickly stifled as they were rocked by another quake.

"Damn it!" He complained. "Dean I need to get you into this. And quick!" Sam explained as he inched his handmade harness over one of Dean's feet, thankful he didn't have to lug his brother's unconscious weight up in a possibly less secure yoke, about his chest. "Just take it easy…" He cautioned as Dean's weight shifted too fast and he slid forward. Dean nodded with confirmation as he slipped the rope around his legs. Now at last they were joined, at either end of the rope, and able to act as counter balance to each other, should the need arise. Sam only hoped their faithful Baptismal Font was up to the task of bearing their weight.

"Great, just need you to stand up dude." Sam encouraged, as his hand slid to Dean's arm to help him up. "Easy, take it slow, its damned slippery!"

Dean grunted painfully as he forced his weary body to obey his request. Dean's injured leg protested painfully, and his knees almost buckled under the aggravation. With Sam's help the redeemed Winchester managed to find his feet, at least momentarily, until Hell itself protested.

As the fissure's determination to close escalated, the abyss shuddered and groaned, tossing both brothers about on the fragile ledge. Hell's determined claim on their fates crumbled the ledge beneath Dean's feet and he plunged downwards, into the waiting arms of damnation's fire. Sam clutched desperately to his end of the rope, frantically lunging his weight down upon it to counter Dean's mounting impetus as he plunged several meters further down. When the rope's slack was expelled Dean's fall halted with a bone jarring jolt that bounced them both with agonizing shock. And Sam hoped beyond all belief that the Baptismal fond held fast! Dean rebounded upwards almost back onto the ledge. Sam had to re-counter Dean's impending recoil as he again halted his brother's plunge into Hell's bowels. Eventually Dean dangled over the side of the ledge, barely able to keep a firm grip on the rope with his savaged arms and hands. His face was deathly pale and Sam feared oblivion was vying for control of his brother's consciousness.

"Dean?" Sam pleaded. "You Ok?"

Slowly Dean's shell-shocked gaze lifted to meet Sam's and the elder Winchester nodded slightly in response.

"Oh, thank you…" Sam thanked the Powers-That-Be. "Dean, hang tight…" _and how stupid did that sound right then? _ "I'm gonna haul you up. All you need to do is hang on, ok? Can you do that?" Sam queried nervously. Dean's gazed found him once more and Dean almost managed a confident smile as he nodded his head again. "Ok, on three…" Sam instructed.

Sam gulped nervously; he hoped he had the strength to hoist Dean's mostly dead weight all the way up, and preferably in time to get his own ass out too. His hands were so bloody his wounds were fortunately camouflaged beneath the sticky crimson coat. And he gulped back the pain and agony his body had so far managed to ignore.

"One… two… three!" Sam pulled on the rope, hoisting Dean a foot higher. Once he had the momentum, Sam compelled his arms to continue with the next heave, and the next and another after that. It was slow progress and Sam had visions of simply jumping over the edge and using his own descent to haul Dean up. But then Dean would probably just dive on in after him any way, so he kept tugging on the rope, hand over hand, over and over again.

The abyss continued to shudder and shake as it inched closed, jostling Sam about, on the still crumbling ledge. The sweat ran in rivers down his face, soaking into his shirt and dripping perilously to the glassy ledge beneath where it slowly evaporated with the blood that dripped from his lacerated hands. The sticky mix beneath his feet threatened to cause him to slide off the ledge with just one ill-placed footfall. Seconds dragged into minutes and minutes threatened to become eternity as Sam hauled Dean up the quaking rock face. Oblivion, exhaustion and heat stroke threatened him; the acerbic gases hacked at his lungs in fits of coughing. However he pushed past the discomfort and willed the agony in his hands and searing muscles away as he methodically tugged at the rope with meticulous repetition.

Reality blurred around him, as his task took precedence above all thoughts, senses and emotions. Until Sam's mind-numbing concentration threatened to obscure him. He began to sway and falter, his grip weakening with his failing consciousness, allowing the rope to slip through his bloody grasp.

"Sam!" Bobby shouted to the hunter. "SAM!"

Sam was lost in his own distorted reality. However Bobby did not relent in attracting his attention. He could see the blank, tedious stare plastered on his face and suspected his trance-like state was approaching a limitless point.

"SAMMY!" Bobby raged, droning out the crackle of Hell's inferno and the howls of despair from the souls below. Sam's stupor broke in time to realize Bobby had managed to grasp hold of Dean's jacket and was waging his own battle to hoist the injured hunter back to safety. He was washed with relief as Dean's weary body was finally pulled away from the chasm's edge.

"Bobby…" Sam muttered hoarsely.

"Get your ass outta there!" Bobby ordered. "And fast!" Bobby tossed the other end of the rope back down to him, so that he could climb out himself.

Sam had neglected the closing abyss and the devious chasm had almost closed in about him. The opposite crag was within arm's reach.

"On three…" Sam muttered to himself as he prepared to repeat the task. "One… two… three…"

Sam pulled on the rope, allowing his feet to rise off the ledge and stepped up the crevasse, one step at a time. Although his feet occasionally slid away from him, slipping on the heat-glazed surface, his progress was unwavering. It wasn't until he was three quarters of the way up that Bobby became anxiously perturbed. The chasm was rapidly slamming shut, the rock faces moaned and clashed with ear shattering droning. And the fissure threatened to close in upon him as he struggled the remaining meters to freedom.

Bobby was awestruck as Sam's momentum suddenly surged upwards. Only to realize Dean had regained enough strength to begin tugging at the rope himself. He could scarcely keep himself upright, however he'd found the strength and will to save his brother.

"Just hang on Sam, we'll haul you out!" Bobby yelled to him. Sam's efforts to pull himself out were futile compared to Bobby and Dean's desperate hauling as they worked in unison to heave Sam out. Ignoring the tightening fissure, Dean and Bobby concentrated solely on their task.

However Sam began to panic. The crags were mere feet apart, enough to taunt him with its closing proximity. As he swung at the end of the rope he bounced between the closing rock faces. He was thankful when he noticed the crags were rough and splintered, as yet not affected by the searing heat from the fires of Hell below. The air had cooled significantly and instead of sulfur the air smelt, and tasted of earth. As he peered up he was within reaching distance of the zenith.

Bobby's hand was reaching for him, desperate to secure a firm handhold on his jacket. Once achieved Sam was amazed at Bobby's strength, when he was hauled out in one almighty heave. Sam was thrust upwards and hoisted to the safety of the fissure's edge. Both Dean and Bobby had succeeded in hauling him out.

Sam gagged and coughed as Bobby's arms were strangled them both; hugging both Winchesters so tight they could barely breathe. As Bobby released his grip Sam's face erupted into a broad smile of sheer triumph. However, Dean sat wearily by his side, his face blank and his eyes glazed over. His final desperate venture to haul Sam up had depleted him of all remaining energy and Dean slumped into a heap, still firmly in Bobby's grasp.

The trio shuffled from the fissure's edge as the chasm groaned rebelliously and slammed closed. With an ear shattering crash, the earth impacted and pulverized with the force of its closure. Thick clouds of dirt and remnant sulfuric gases exploded over them in a shower of rocks and dirt. The heat dissipated instantly and the devastated ruins of the church fell silent once more.

Bobby and Sam sat sprawled by each other's side, in awe and stunned amazement at what they had just done. Sam had literally climbed into Hell to save Dean, and survived no less!

As Sam gave Dean a cursory examination of his wounds the elder Winchester gazed wearily up at him. Dean finally smiled, from ear to ear, with relief and managed a brief chuckle before a coughing fit ensued and unconsciousness quickly swamped his battle-weary body again.

"Let's get the _Hell_ outta here." Bobby sighed as he held Dean in his arms. Sam nodded enthusiastically and he staggered to his feet.

"Shit yeah!" Sam agreed. He knelt down and tenderly took his brother's unconscious weight into his grasp, hoisting him up, over his shoulder, in a fireman's hold.

They staggered out from the shattered debris of what remained of the church, walking away from their own personal Apocalypse. They were the sole survivors of their near cataclysmic battle with a demon.

Although Bobby searched for her, Ruby was no where to be found. Both Bobby and Sam feared her fate had been sealed by the Hounds that perused her. The carnage of evidence of both beast and demon had disappeared; their carcasses and their very remaining essence had been sucked back into the very depths of Hell. It would seem this particular battle was a win to the only humans in the group.

Daylight's first tentative fingers of pink and gold clawed at the horizon. Dawn was just breaking as they made their way back to their cars.

Dean had lived to see another day…

End…?

**I hope you enjoyed this, one possible, way to save Dean from his deal. I figured this one was pretty true to Winchester form, cause let's face it, Dean's salvation could never have been as simple as a ritual, or the sacrifice of a lamb, cause we all know nothing ever comes easy to the Winchester boys! **

**With more than one thought on possibilities for Dean's deliverance, another idea, formally completely separate from this fic has plagued me. And as I begin to flesh it out from its bare skeletal beginnings I couldn't help but see it almost as a natural sequel to 'Highway to Hell', rather than as a stand alone fic. (Besides, it means I don't have to spend hours coming up with ulterior means in which they find themselves pretty much in the same situation as they are in right now! '**_**So, is Dean really saved?' I hear you ask…**_**) I have reworked certain sections of 'Highway' (all done pre-posting) in subtle preparation to a sequel, so if you're interested please keep an eye out for my next Fic. Sorry I haven't quite found a title as yet, hopefully as the story progresses something will come to me.**

**However, if you're not up for another chrissmi fic, please feel free to imagine the brothers driving off into the sunset, after they get themselves patched up, headed for Miami, or the like, for some well deserved R&R, with plenty of sun, beer, women and lazy afternoons on the beach…**

**Yeah right! I couldn't quite visualise that myself! Let's face it; they'd hardly make it over the state line before something would either be on their asses, or lurking at the back of their wardrobe in their next sleazy motel!**

_**Or sitting in the seat right next to them as they cruise down the 'Highway'…**_

**Hope to catch you in my next fic!**

**Chrissymi.**


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